First of all, there is not a picture you can take that says, "It is 7 Am, and I just slept one hour, and now I am getting ready to walk three blocks to a subway that will take me to an airport so that I can fly to a home I haven't seen for two months." No wonder rock stars and other people who "tour" become terribly unbalanced.
Riding the tube, one last time. I am ashamed that I did not take a pic of our luggage all stacked in the corner. Where was my head?
For a reason that I do not understand, the powers that be in Heathrow are unable to tell you what gate to go to until shortly before your flight. This is where they stick everyone to wait for their flights in Heathrow. Thank God I know Barbie, for it is because of her that this place where they "stick" everyone is skipped over.
Welcome to the Virgin Upper Class lounge.
It is absurd. Last year, between South Africa and Los Angeles, we showered here between flights and Barbie got a massage. You actually want more time here. You want three hours at least to unwind, relax, eat and drink. Today, we only had time for complementary breakfast.
We sat in the nice little restaurant section of the lounge.
I'd been looking forward to the eggs benedict here for a while. Most of the hotels didn't quite get it right.
Barbie shows off one of the lounge's cooler chairs. I would definitely say that you do not see this chair in that public seating area six pics above. Soon enough, it was time to head to the gate.
The sea of red jackets coming towards us looked like a commercial.
There she is, the last plane of... 10. (Just had to count them up.) Her name? Mustang Sally. My brother will like that.
The last view of London. Last view of Europe.
Cozy in my coffin.
The soup was good.
The chicken, not quite as good. I watched, "The Boat That Rocked." Very good movie.
I had planned since the night before to stand in front of all the Upper Class cubicle thingys and take a pic. Surprise, surprise. To my left was a movie actor and his girlfriend. If I stood up and took a pic, surely he would think it was about him. Even worse, he's the sort of movie actor who is known for getting a little violent and he had some wine as soon as he got on the plane.
Alas, I opted instead to a pic of the people across from me instead. The odds that they would jump out of their seats and try to kick me with their white leather cowboy boot was much lower. Yes, the guy was wearing white leather cowboy boots on a plane.
It would have been uncouth to take off my socks for this pic. But appropriate.
Could it be Los Angeles? You know, I learned something very interesting in an early 1900's encyclopedia I found at my grandparents home. Under Los Angeles, it described a small, unique city with neighboring cities such as Santa Monica, Tujunga, Owensmouth, and more. This city of just over 150,000 residents enforced a moratorium on building height. City Hall was visible from all around because of this law. In essence, they legislated sprawl and low density as Los Angeles slowly absorbed every neighboring city. And low density makes public transit less efficient, which leads to traffic. Which means when you fly over Los Angeles, all you see is roads and short buildings for miles and miles.
Crossing the 405 and spotting Century Boulevard brings the blog to a close. I was toying with the idea of taking pictures at the airport and customs, but the actor was standing in front of us in line at customs and I didn't want to come across like I wanted his picture.
Ironically, as David Scharf was picking us up curbside, there were two sad looking paparazzi taking shots of the actor with his girlfriend and the man who was picking them up. The dude picking them up looked like he might be the attraction, to be honest. Mr. White Cowboy Boots began posing for them, wrapping his arm around the dude. I took a picture of them taking his picture, and now for the life of me I cannot find it. Bummer.
Now that the saga is over, I leave you with this terribly professional representation of, "Barbara Howard's 50th Birthday European Tour." I am putting this on the front of a t-shirt for her with every stop we made listed on the back, just like a rock and roll tour shirt. When I have a t-shirt design approved by the Birthday Girl, perhaps I'll share it on here. For now...
... you get the map.
Live well. And, as St. Augustine is reported to have said, "The world is a book; those that don't travel only read one page."