I couldn't sleep last night. I kept rolling over how little I wanted to leave, but there was comfort in the fact that it'd all happen early, and that by the evening, I'd be seeing Avenue Q on Broadway, for free, with Phil.
I got to see what's visible of a London sunrise. It's sort of a fade from dark gray to light.
So, I got up at around 5am, packed, tidied up, and was out the door by 6:30. Several Tube delays and a painfully long trainride later, I arrived at Stansted airport, about 45 minutes prior to my flight, relieved that I'd made it - or, so I thought.
The very (not) nice French lady at the desk informed me that they stopped boarding fifteen minutes prior and that I'd have to be moved to a flight, six hours later, at another airport that was going to cost me £21 to get to. The kicker of this was that I knew, about a hundred feet away, that the rest of my flight hadn't even boarded the plane yet, but she wouldn't budge, even when I dissolved into a quite humiliating puddle of tears and estrogen. Besides, it'd already cost me £15 to get to Standstead, and now I was going back from whence I came.
Basically, today I've spent about $80 to go in a circle.
So, here I am in Heathrow Airport, full on too expensive chicken curry and too exhausted to be emotional, knowing that i'll arrive in New York at just about the time the audience is applauding the first number of Avenue Q.
In retrospect, I can say the following: I had no idea I needed to leave four and a half hours early to make it on time. That was communicated nowhere. And I haven't got the powers of God to make public transportation efficient and ontime, though as far as London is concerned, it was the only time this week I was delayed. At least it's lesson learned.
So, I'm going through my digital photo log, and remembering the past few days wistfully. I'll be sure to recount them here later, but let me at least say that I'm flying home deeply satisfied and with just enough yearning for a little more to secure that I'll be back as soon as I can.
I feel like writing fiction for the first time in a year or so, so that's a good sign, I'll get on that as soon as I have charged appliances again. So, wish me safe flight, with a not creepy seat neighbor, and I'll be back home in a few days.
I'm off to have a torrid little fling with NYC after my love affair with London.