Declarations of Intent
August 21st, 200612:30 AM, 8/21/06
After what felt like 24 hours of travel but in reality was only about 16, I arrived at The Generator hostel in London. I felt as though I’d been on the move for 24 hours because of the 8 hour time change. On my overnight flight to D.C., I got…ohhh…about one hour of sleep. I was so delirious that I actually thought—for a moment—that the plane had managed to arrive three hours early. In fact, I had simply neglected the time chance. Oops. The D.C. airport didn’t provide any better sleeping conditions than the airplane. You know, they have those hard black seats…they’re even more uncomfortable to lay on than sit on. However, all turned out for the best because I totally passed out on the flight to London. And I really mean, “passed out.” None of that in and out of sleep crap. I was listening to an audio book and after about the first fifteen minutes, it’s a complete blank. The only thing capable of keeping me awake was food, which (if you can believe it) was actually good—yes, good. They had this egg omelet sausage thing and I actually wanted more. The girl next to me refused her meal (she seemed very cranky for the entire flight) and I considered asking her if I could have the extra meal. I decided against it though. Anyway, the London Airport was remarkable easy to navigate. There were signs for everything. I almost expected to see a sign that read “Greg, go this way to find the train to take you to your hostel.” I didn’t take any wrong turns and the only thing that took much time was the customs queue. And aside from turning in the customs form, the airport made the process remarkable easy. After getting my baggage, I found a hall with a sign over it that read “Nothing to Declare.” This surprised me since in New Zealand and Australia, the sign was more likely to read “Declare All Goods or Face Eternal Damnation.”
So it’s now just midnight here and things are pretty relaxed, so I’m probably going to go to bed. It took all of 5 seconds after stepping into the hostel to remember how much backpackers (and particularly the English) smoke. And seeing as it’s only my first night in Europe, I think I’ll retain some semblance of health before I resign myself to the black lung.
gregbilsland