Saturday, September 3, 2011
Sweetman made it through traffic and Tampa Airport's security without completely morphing into Mr. Hyde. Little glimmers here and there of the monster reared its ugly head but he actually made it without going into a total meltdown.
When we arrived at the check-in counter, we found out our flight was delayed. Instead of leaving at 6:45 pm we were told it would leave at 7:45 pm. Sweetman growled a little bit over it. Waiting for anything isn’t his bag but hey, he maintained his equilibrium pretty well.
Of course, he had an idea to make our waiting more pleasurable. We’ll go sit in the British Air Club Café. One problem though, we bought Economy seats not Biz class. A little steam escaped his ears along with a throaty snarl when the clerk told him it was impossible for us to enter the premises.
So we headed on over to the US Air Club Café. Sweetman has a talent for wheeling and dealing. I believe over the last one hundred years or so he’s traveled with everyone. For fifty dollars a piece, he got us into their club.
We munched on trail mix and apples. We drank coffee and cocoa. We watched the big screen television. He read the paper. I read my Kindle. It was all good while we waited for our flight. We basically had the place to ourselves except for the bald worker, two old men, and a red-headed lady.
Finally our flight arrived, a triple seven, a/k/a, a big-ass-jet.
The flight attendants were all pretty and proper, including the feminine men. Nice make-up. Nice hair. Polite as apple pie. For the most part, it was a nice nine hour flight to London.
Except, the food sucked, and I couldn’t sleep. A symphony of snores surrounded me. In the front. In the back. To the left of me. OMG. And, Sweetman’s head kept falling onto my shoulder. It must weigh at least three hundred pounds. I’m now convinced Sweetman’s got boulders for brains.
So when we arrived at Gatwick, the ultimate destination(that’s a story to tell you all tomorrow) this was me for the rest of the day:
Actually this is some street actor at Piccadilly Circus but it’s not far from the truth. Really.
That’s all for now folks!
And yes, there are more pics than what I’ve shown you. Three hundred and four to be precise.
Happy blogging, reading, and writing!
Shelly
