What's in my head

This is the home of your average girl in her early 30s making her way in the big city...Not really. I have thoughts. Now I have somewhere to put them.

Friday, October 14, 2005

T - one hour!

I've never flown overseas or on an evening flight. But damn it sounds like it's gonna be swell. The experience of landing at what will feel like 2:30 a.m. to me in a place where I will not be able to sleep until 2 p.m. (unless I find a park bench that looks comfy, but I don't really want my first British experience to be me getting robbed. Besides the fact my only knowledge of London parks with benches comes from Notting Hill and I know I'm gonna be way too tired to heave my *hopefully* 20kg suitcase over an iron fence and to say, "whoopsy daisy"...but I digress) and am not recommended to sleep until regular bed time, which means that I'll have been up something like 34 hours in a row (I may be exaggerating...a tad. The time difference and flight time confuse me a little), is surely one that everyone must have. Non?

But I hope and pray (well, I would pray if I didn't believe that if there was a high power she might be a little more concerned with the starving children in Africa or world peace rather than whether or not I have major jet lag as I start my 10-day European holiday) that the excitement of landing in a new and exciting place will hop me up more than a six pack of Red Bulls. It worked when I went to New York City. Technically there wasn't a time zone change on that trip, but it did involve an overnight bus trip (yes, to save $125 I boarded a greyhound at midnight for an overnight journey to the Big Apple and I will NEVER do it again). A bus trip that involved about two hours of upright sleep between stops at the Fort Erie border (where I learned two white chicks travelling from Canada to the United States could basically smuggle in anything because they asked us like two questions and when we got in line behind the two young white men to have our bags x-rayed they gave us a wave that said to me, "Don't be silly, you don't have to wait in line. No, you gals can get right back on the bus. We trust you. You don't look like you'd be smuggling pot, crack, apples, peanut butter or socialist ideals into our fair nation. Come right in." I did bring three of those things across the border.), the Buffalo bus station where we switched buses, middle of nowhere Pennsylvania, a Burger King in nowhere interesting P.A. and possibly a stop in Jersey. The point is when we got to NYC at 10 a.m., despite walking the 20 blocks to our hostel in Chelsea (again I am cheap, but in my defense I was preparing to quit my job and yes that $5 for my share of the cab ride would have made a difference...this was back when the Cdn dollar was only worth $0.70 American), I was ready to go. I was able to walk at least another 65 blocks as we explored FAO Shwartz, Bloomingdales, Times Square and various other NYC tourist must sees. I didn't crash until 10:30 p.m. that night.

I guess that means I can make it...(hold on, I'm doing the math)...12 hours on a little sleep and a whole lot of excitement. That's get me to...7 p.m. Crap! Maybe I should take a cat nap after I check into my hotel...

Ok, I'm going to stop with the talking (writing) and make with the leaving now...(just as soon as I dry my hair and find the stupid little key to my useless little suitcase lock).


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