Airport Amusement

I am getting pretty tired of airports, and even of flying, though I have only finished half of my initial trip to Mozambique. I am sitting in a London airport, feeling like a lame version of McGyver, since I have used the inapropriate power converters to get power to my computer. This jimmy-rigged combination is not what you are supposed to do, but I am getting power, so I am not too worried, despite the buzzing noise that comes from the outlet: here's to hoping against an electrical fire. I am going to spend five hours here today, flying out at 8:00 London time. I spent six hours in Houston last night, and that was no fun. You notice a lot of things when you are in an aiport that long. The wierdest thing I saw was a defibrulator built into the wall like a fire extinguisher, with a sign above it with a heart and a lightening strike going through it. I saw them all over the place. When did airports start installing defibrulators as standard practice- were that many people having heart attacks while running to catch flights? Or is it a terrorist precaution, hoping that perhaps we can surprise some would be terrorist with cardiac arrest? Even if someone does start having heart trouble, what are the chances we can lug them over to a defibrulator in time? I was grateful to see, however, that in case I was called on to haul a senior citizen over to the machine in the event of a heart attack, there was an instructional pamphlet beside it. That way, I can read up on it before I use it, assuming the old person can hold on for that long. Or perhaps it was meant for those responsible citizens to read beforehand, just in case, so that we would be ready to rise to the occasion when the time came? I didn't read the pamphlet, so unfortunately I am unready to use the defibrulator, but I am in the London Heathrow airport anyway, and they have no defibrulators; it must be an American thing. Irresponsible British.

The flight from Houston to London was nice. We left at 10:30 at night, and so there were very few people on our flight. I had changed seats to sit on an end away from others so I could sleep, but then a motherly stewardess came over and reccomended that I move to a middle row seat so I could lay down. I never lay down in planes, and I seldom sleep much, but she was very forceful in her 'recomendation'. She really would not let me say no. So I moved, and the rest of the flight she talked a lot and took care of me. She said if I were her child she would tie me to a chair so I couldn't keep traveling so much, and she reccomended that I date her daughter, but only after she got a job and did something with her life. I also heard her talking about me to all the other stewardesses; they all knew who I was and what I was doing. One of the funniest times was when I was just sitting there listening to a book on tape on my ipod after the meal, and she came over and gave me a first class pillow and one of the first class freshening up kits. Then she forcefully told me to lie down and go to sleep. Like I said, I never lie down in planes, and I can't sleep much, but she made me. I couldn't believe how forceful she was! I did it, and sure enough, after finding just the right position, I was able to fall asleep. I slept almost the entire flight, only waking up to change positions because some body part had fallen asleep- usually one of my legs. After that the rest of the flight went great. She was a nice lady, and if you ever want a mother along with you on a trip (or someone even more bossy than your mom) just fly Contintental. They are not stingy with the snacks either, like Delta is. When we finally landed, I really had to go to the bathroom. Note to self: those FiberOne bars are full of fiber. They give me gas. They make me feel my intestines are huge balloons full of air. I should not eat these bars when traveling. Anyway, as we were unloading, I figured I would just use the bathroom when I got into Heathrow, instead of using the disgusting plane bathrooms. So we finally got off, and I headed for the bathroom. There was a problem, however, and that is that the Heathrow airport was designed by the researchers who make mazes for rats to do tests in, the bathroom being the hidden destination. With the fiber bars nearly doubling me over, I went through hallway after hallway searching for the bathroom , or even an abondened corner. Sorry for the frankness. Finally I found it, (a bathroom, not a corner) and all was well. I am now sitting here, eying the showers of the airport, wondering how bad they are, or if it is worth trying to get a shower in, since it will be a total of three days without one. We will see. I also have to try to sew my bag since there is now a hole in it. I have another four hours here, so what better thing to do than sew the bag? And I am secretly hoping the stewardess from my plane is not somewhere here in the airport, waiting to tell me to eat something or to take another nap. Until next time,
B