Internet Cafe at Kings Cross

When we got to the airport in Atlanta, there was immediately chaos. Apparently, the air traffic controllers in Atlanta were having a bad day and many of the planes were being delayed. As a result our initial plane was a couple of hours late. Since we only had about a forty-five minute window between arriving in Chicago and leaving for London, that two hours was not exactly going to be a good thing. United busted their humps and got us on an earlier flight. As a result, about fifteen people either got bumped off the flight or upgraded.

(On a side note, the gentleman who runs this internet cafe just offered to go next door and buy me and Beth a coke. He just finished explaining the different coins to Beth. She couldn’t grasp that the 50p coin is worth half a pound… but the pound coin is smaller. Smaller and worth more… she just can’t get it.)

On our flight from Atlanta to Chicago, we had the legendary Crying Baby. I was almost to the point of offering stewardesses money to flush the little monster down the toilet when I remembered that we weren’t supposed to throw any foreign objects in the commode. I am pretty sure the baby was American, but I didn’t want to risk it.

The flight out of Chicago was great. I started guzzling Nyquil and was out like a light. I told the student I woke up next to (who was not the student sitting there when I went to sleep… apparently they played musical seats at some point during the night when they got tired of watching the movies) that the little baby sitting close to us must have been incredibly well-behaved. She assured me that my earplugs just did a wonderful job. Apparently so, because Ryan, the student who was sitting next to me during the first part of flight, later informed me that I farted a couple of times after I fell asleep. Between the earplugs and my sinuses, I was clueless.)

We are off on a walking tour in a bit. First, I think we are going to an Oriental buffet for dinner. Great… I fly almost ten hours to cross the globe only to eat at China Buffet. Beth just said she didn’t think the Oriental buffet will have Yorkshire pudding or spotted dick. I told her to stop talking dirty.

Off for now…