The adventure begins… I left the Bay Area on Friday afternoon on a non-stop flight to London. Fortunately the flight was nearly empty and I was able to procure a row of seats that were almost long enough for me to lie flat on.
The only negative aspect of this set-up was that I had either to put my hands or feet slightly out into the aisle to be completely comfortable. Today’s planes, as efficient and well designed as they are, are not built for this type of arrangement, and I nearly lost two fingers and a toe to the scalding hot beverage and food carts that rolled by in the middle of the night. I’m already planning some sort of solution for my next flight akin to the road-spikes police lay out to stop fast moving vehicles.
In London I met up with Karina Scalise, my ‘old’ roommate from the Rose, and we set about to see the city. My main goal while there was to have a meat pie, but after airline food and no sleep for 24 hours I decided to eat something healthier–one of London’s famous chicken sandwiches (insert sarcasm here). It was basically just a boiled chicken breast on a bun, with mayonnaise, pickles, some sort of weird red sauce with onions, and a funky piece of lettuce. Well we knew the Londoner’s weren’t exactly famous for their food.
Everything was going well up until I headed back to Heathrow. This airport, for those who have not had the privilege, is the size of a small universe, complete with several solar systems of terminals each with their own satellite hubs. Before my flight to London the kind people at British Airways in San Francisco took the liberty of directing me to Terminal One for my evening flight to Nairobi. After arriving at the British Airways desk in Terminal One two hours early, I was told that no, in fact the flight was leaving out of Terminal Four, and that I would have to walk 300 meters, take a train, and then a shuttle to get there. No kidding, I’m pretty sure the distance accross Maryland may be less than that from Terminal One to Terminal Four in Heathrow Airport. So I headed off, only to be told when I finally ran up to the desk in Terminal Four that I’d missed my flight.
Good things often come out of bad turns though and I found an amazing hotel in the airport. I’ll write more about it tomorrow.</div>