Heathrow Airport

I thought I was traveling through terminal 5 but alas, it was not yet ready for the likes of me. Perhaps they’ll have their shit together for me to travel through there upon my return. It’s the same, good ‘ol Heathrow terminal 4 from my youth. I don’t know why it is that wherever you travel, if you have a connecting flight, you either have to walk to the other end of the airport to reach your departing gate or it’s the one immediately adjacent to your arrival gate and you have 3 hours to kill at 10pm when all the shops are closed. I may have to do a little more traveling to test this bold theory of mine. Or maybe the theory is an excuse to travel!

I could never get my brain around time and travel. I’ve been up and traveling for about 12 hours now. When I say ‘traveling’ I include the car ride to the airport and all the waiting time. You’re in limbo. You can do nothing. This is a vortex in which you have no idea why your skin is suddenly so oily and your breath smells like a rat died in your mouth when all you did was take a ‘quick nap’. In this vortex you can read at a rate unfathomable in your normal life. You contemplate the existence of the universe and you believe every random idea your sleep deprived brain concocts. You are at once irritated and grateful for the talkative fat man sitting next to you who wants to help you with your heavy carry on bag and tell you all about his family.

My family ALWAYS takes British Airways when we travel over the Atlantic. I love British Airways. It’s one of the few consistent things in the arch my life to this point. Ever since I was a child I have enjoyed the red and blue uniforms and the smiling faces of the pilots & attendants of British Airways. The pilots & attendants are all very nice and the friendliness seems genuine. They embody the stereotype of their nationality: nice & proper. It’s all in the details and BA knows detail like Emily Post knew etiquette. They might be the reason for my displeasure with our average American customer service representative.

My flight to Kuwait is boarding now. I imagine once I get in at 6:30am local time I’ll want nothing more than to shower and sleep. My father seems very excited to have me there and he may keep me up for a while showing me around the apartment and giving me my cell phone. Now he is a man of detail.