Get off plane, get in shuttle to city centre, get out of shuttle, fall in love with San Francisco.
I meet Jo, my travel buddy at the youth hostel, and firmly sticking two fingers up to jet lag, we hit some bars. I'm too tired to continue. Night.
I write on board a Delta airlines flight to San Francisco. The headphone sets cost $2. The films $6. Food around $8. Considering I had all this free during the past 7 hours in my transatlatic flight from London to New York, I'm feel my nose has been put out of joint. At least according to the flight computer (the only thing I can watch for nothing) there is only 3 hours until I land on the west coast. The end of a very long day of travel that started at 7am in a small flat in Whetstone. For all of my patriotism, which rears it's ugly head sometimes, I actually really don't like London. The tube freaks me out. All those people marching to work. Subterreanean creatures spending years of their lives underground. I find it odd. It's not for me.