Born in the USA ......

...... and back here, too.

The flight from Nairobi to London was mostly miserable, but I did get some decent sleep after the first couple of hours or so (9 hour flight).

We arrived in London around 5:30 a.m.  We walked through that humongous airport and got in a short-ish line for security.  As we drew closer to the woman who was looking at boarding passes before letting passengers continue on, we could hear her telling some people to "go away".  Really.    Then we could hear her saying, "Go away, you have too much time before your flight leaves."
Really seriously.

As we got within a few feet, she told a woman to turn around and go to another terminal.  And she didn't say it in a very nice voice.  Even though she had a British accent.  She sounded kind of ...... testy.  I'll use that word instead of "snotty", but you'll know that I really mean "snotty" (not sure if you Brits use that term).
After she told that woman to hit the road, she looked up at the next several of us in line and asked if we, too, were going to San Francisco (and we weren't even wearing some flowers in our hair).  The people in front of us said no, and added that they were going to Texas (they were members of our team but not in our particular group).
She dropped most of the testiness from her voice, but still told all of us to go away.  I felt a little like I imagine Dorothy felt when that rude green guy at the door of the Emerald City told her to go away.
Then the British lady also told us that we should go to another terminal because there was absolutely nothing in the terminal from which our flight would depart.
Nothing.
Absolutely.

She said that we had five hours so we should go shopping, eat something and have a lovely time, rather than go to an empty terminal and sit in hard chairs for 5 hours.
Now who could argue with that?

Except that at 6:00 a.m. ...... shopping and traipsing through a huge airport doesn't sound like that lovely of a time.
But who were we to go against the rude green guy less-testy sounding British lady?

So we got on the little train thingy and went elsewhere.
And then we went through security.
And my day started off with a bang.

Before we flew out of Kenya I bought 2 bottles of Bailey's (one regular, one caramel) in a duty free shop at the airport.
Because they were $16.
As in sixteen.
Four less than twenty.

In the States that bottle of Bailey's would cost at least $22, most times more.
Thus, my purchase.

The sealed bottles were placed into 2 bags, along with their receipt and then hermetically sealed (in a mayonnaise jar on Funk and Wagnall's porch).
Not really.  I think.  I have no idea what hermetically sealed is (and yes, I know that I really dated myself with that), but the bags were sealed with one of those bag sealing things.
Just like there were supposed to be.

Little did I know that all of that sealing was just a total waste of time and energy (not to mention money) because England has a huge prejudice against any liquid not purchased in Europe ...... or the U.S.
So they won't permit said liquids to pass through their security.
No matter how sealed they are.
Which is a little-known fact.

I was soon a lot testier than that British woman.
And, after watching them throw those two bottles into the trash, I really had no words other than, "Just give me my backpack so I can get out of here."
I have no doubt that a young, stuck-in-a-boring-job-British dude is passed out cold at this very moment, after getting totally wasted on those two bottles he quickly removed from the trash.
Jerk.

Had I known about that prejudice, everyone in coach on the flight from Kenya to London would've had a heck of a party with me.
Well, at least all of my friends would have.
Or a few of them.

After wasting at least thirty minutes in Heathrow's security, I joined the rest of my group.
And had a lovely and expensive breakfast owned by some guy named Gordon Ramsay, called Plane Food.  I guess he's on the Food Network.  And most of you have probably heard of him.
Today was my first intro.
I also had a Bloody Mary.
Heavy on the Bloody.
And I felt a wee bit better.

After sitting, eating, talking, and texting Son #2 who had just texted to tell me that he wasn't able to get off of work to join us for Thanksgiving (it was around midnight at home), and trying to not cry while relaying that news, the 3 females of the group left to go walk around the terminal.  Which basically means that we went to Harrod's and shopped.
Kind of.
We mostly looked.  And there was much at which to look.  And many people looking.

I found Dr. Pepper in a shop.
Even better, it was cold.
You cannot appreciate that fact unless you've spent over a week in Africa.
Where cold drinks, especially sodas, are a luxury item seldom seen.

Then we decided to brave the cold, harrowing terminal from which our plan would depart.
Interestingly enough, I think they've added some shops and food stores to that terminal since that British woman has last visited.
Someone should inform her.
Unless she's just part of their big plot to get more of our money by making us go have a lovely time.
If so, kudos to them.
It worked.

We all made it onto the plane without incident.
Which is huge if you're traveling with me.

This plane, unlike most of the planes I've been on in the last year, was not packed to the brim.
There were at least 7 empty rows in the back of coach.  And there were at least 20 of us frothing at the mouth, waiting for the doors to be shut so that we could race for non-middle seats.
It was great.  No one had a middle seat.
The woman who had the aisle seat on our row (I had the window, my friend had the middle) left so that we could spread out.
That flight was almost delightful.
Except for the fact that it was 10 hours long.
But other than that ...... dee-lightful.

I just looked at the flight as 10 hours I had all to myself, to watch movies, read, write, etc.
And so it was.

Now I am home, waiting for Son #3 to get home from his weekend in Oklahoma. My mom and D are waiting with me ...... until he gets home, or until I fall asleep.  Whichever comes first.
It'll be another hour until he's home.
I'm not sure I'm going to make it.

Happy Sunday/Monday, Peeps.
:)