trahern

I should have known to not to partake of the big lunch before the flight, but I didn't want to disappoint anyone; and I considered myself better off since I wouldn't be eating the tongue of cow or cheek of pig (and I do mean cheek, not rump). Regardless, I was dropped off at the airport somewhat earlier than intended.

Checking in, I learned the plane was an hour late. I spent three hours in the airport, two in flight, and another on the subway to King's Cross worrying that I might be stuck in London overnight. I did that several times eight or nine years ago. The street whores are occasionally interesting conversational companions, but I just wasn't in the mood to deal with that shit since I wanted to go home and wash the airport off me.

Luckily I did turn out to have a decent time window before the last train, though it stops at every station in between London and Cambridge. I celebrated by spending a full minute pissing out everything since the orange juice that morning, then getting onto the train and collapsing.

I never got a ticket. Hee hee.

Note to self: Grab her MSN before she's archived.