Los Angeles > London | Part III of Driving to London

I awoke early Saturday morning to shower and gather my things together. The concierge had hired a car for me, and it was to arrive at 6:30am. Too early for breakfast — too early for much of anything — but the drive was pleasant and fast. My driver and I chatted along the way, which made the trip all the more of both.

A quick check-in (I never have more luggage than a single carry-on), and I was boarding... and from there, I can't much remember what happened when — or on which leg of the journey. Of the trip East, I remember a delay in Chicago due to a storm in New York that kept me from making it to church in London. I also remember Felecia joining us in Chicago — an engaging, lively, and beautiful woman on her way (via a short holiday in London) to South Africa to complete a Fullbright Scholarship... and I remember spending two hours (TWO HOURS!) in customs upon arriving at Heathrow.

But the rest, well, I can't recall exactly.

Some time during my trip — Los Angeles to London, or the other way around — I saw Little Miss Sunshine, which was a delight that brought me to tears and to laughter a few times — and whose soundtrack I've since purchased and listened to many times. I saw The World's Fastest Indian, which was wonderful and which reminded me of home and friends who had been extras in it (part of it was shot in Utah). I saw Marie Antoinette... which would have been twice as good had it been just a little bit shorter. I saw pieces of Man of the Year, and agreed with the assessment of one reviewer who said it was Wag the Dog minus the insightful political commentary. And I saw Running with Scissors, which somehow held my full attention despite being filled with unlovable characters and suffering from a pace which could only be described as glacial. It did, however, sport a wonderful sound track — which I also purchased upon my return home.

And that's it: a fog of memories at 36,000 feet, interrupted by bags of peanuts, orange juice, and two perfectly horrendous in-flight "meals". The strange thing in all of this, is that I love to fly... and loved my flights… I just can't recall why.

Next Stop: The Flat!