Sitting here listening to The Pixies and remembering the flights back to the UK.
First it’s a flight to Toronto on a Dash 8. A Dash 8 Is like a bus with propellors. It rumbles and rocks. It doesn’t get too high so I can see Lake Erie as we fly over. All is going well apart from the girl sitting next to me being airsick. Ha. I am immune to that. Never get airsick and this flight is fairly smooth.
I miss my babe and remember her sad face as I drifted through the departures. Yea the usual laptop out belt and shoes off. At least I didn’t get the explosives residue test this time.
And so I am 20,000 feet above Ohio and Canada. I sneak a Jim Beam into my Air Canada Ginger Ale and enjoy the flight. This is nothing compared to the 7 hour ordeal to come.
We land safely in Toronto and I join the usual Canada immigration queue. I love Canada. They don’t give a fuck. My passport is stamped and I wander down to the baggage carousel. The Delta Airlines guy back in Columbus told me that I would have to pick up my bags and re-book them in for the UK flight.
I wait….and I wait. Soon I am the only person left as the carousel winds around sans my luggage. Kouchons. Where the hell is it?
I wander over to a bored looking Air Canada guy. “Where the fuck are me bags?” I ask beseechingly. It appears that Delta Airlines don’t have a bloody clue. My luggage is automatically sent on to my London flight. But I am not worried as they also for the first time didn’t charge me for my second case….Yipee.
And now I have 5 hours to waste in Toronto. First stop is Starbucks who accept my USA issued card. Brilliant. I have coffee and I head out front for a much needed cigarette.
Toronto airport is cool. I can smoke between flights. It is sunny and hot. Love it but soon the nerves get to me again as I sit in the terminal building. Man I even consider cancelling my flight and trying to find a ship back. Time for more Valium.
I pop one and make my way through to departures. No more fags. I hit the bar and down a few Molsons. Nice beer but at 6 dollars a glass?….Whew? My fear gradually recedes and I make my way to the Duty Free. FFS. I buy nothing. Too bloody expensive. I can buy booze cheaper back in the UK and fags.
Soon my flight is called. And so I find my own private nightmare in a squashed up seat. I am pleasantly mellowed by booze and drugs as the engines spool up. Soon we are airborne and I have a remarkably boring flight. I like boring. Terrified is what I hate. I do manage to slip quite a few Jim Beams down as we fly. It helps.
I try to sleep a little but I can’t. Too bloody uncomfortable but time passes fast and we land at 06:30am UK time. I praise the gods for a smooth landing and I am back in the UK.
The usual. Grab a bus to Cambridge then a cab and home by lunchtime. On the way I look out at a sad England. I feel so divorced from it now. Everything seems so small. The cars, the roads and in paticular the minds.
Back in the UK the big news is Rupert Murdoch’s News of the World’s phone hacking scandal.
I laugh. Everyone is shocked at the involvement of the British Police. Does no one ever learn? The British police are bent. They always have been and always will be. I watch my poor countries sad towns flash past and try to stay awake.