Airport bars are great. Where else can you buy a gin sling and quarter pounder served up by enthusiastic smiley staff at seven in the morning?
8.45 and I'm nervously sitting in a very crowded smoking area of the airport bar surrounded by drunk but friendly scousers, blue uniformed officials and the very English smell of bacon butties. I'm checked in and waiting for my 11.10 flight and the situation has become very real - I'm traveling to Mexico with no real plan, no idea how long I'll be here and I have no grasp of Spanish (which I'm reliably informed is what Mexicans tend to speak...) After sinking two of the worse cups of tea ever, I decide to open my Spanish phrase book and try to become fluent in an alien language - surely it can't be that hard..? The uninspiring view from the window changes my mood though, the feelings of sheer terror transform into a strange childlike excitement. I see grey buildings, grey skies, grey people and a seemingly randomly placed selection of grey bits of metal. I've never seen so many shades of grey. I'm a day's travel away from the exact opposite of what I'm looking at now and this makes me smile like a Chester mog. No proper pictures in this entry, Gatwick sucks.
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