I am alive again.
I’ve forgotten how much people I don’t know and whose language I know understand fully (as opposed to Hebrew) are FUNNY.
Everyone is funny. Everyone curses, everyone gets mad. Everyone has the whole range of emotions. I think I’m so excited about being in a place I love that I just generalize the range of emotions. I had a lovely train ride to the new terminal in just over an hour, record time, and then the chaotic new terminal, the complete disorganization of which annihilated the fact it’s new and supposedly convenient. No signs for anything, and we left over an hour late.
The architect I was sitting next to in the plane asked every single crew member if she was going to make her connecting flight to Warsaw for her big-deal presentation at 8 AM the next morning. The three Frenchies behind me bitched the entire way because I needed to put my seat back, calling the cabin crew over to their aisle three times. I finally, completely raggedy and sleepy, angry, heaved myself over the seat glaring at them all googley-eyed through my purple glasses, and making some argument about how they had enough space and I had the right to put my seat back.
Insert dirty French looks through the airplane seats into the back of my head here, for the rest of the flight.
We landed, after a horrible flight, my Israeli architect seat neighbour and I were relieved to land in Frankfurt, at least that much closer to our respective destinations, and all of a sudden, after this hell flight (i’m sparing you all the gory details, and I’m worried that if I write it down it won’t seem as hellish as it was, and I’ll look like a big drama queen). As we landed, people started clapping. Trust me, when you’ve had a flight that has not been great, with passive aggressive back street neighbours who tap on your seat every few minutes and kick the bottom of your seat just to show you they’re not happy, the last thing you want is some happy enthusiastic passengers, clapping when the plane lands. She turned to me (my neighbour) and rolling her eyes, growled…”Primitive people…” which struck me as hilarious. I never saw her again because she leaped over weaker passengers to fly through the exit and catch her connection to Poland.
I landed and dad was there, we laughed all the way to the hotel with his funny stories and his new Australian bush hat, and had a lovely time. London is just great ,even at midnight with no one around. It’s just a fun city, full of fun people.
This morning we woke up and had a fantastic breakfast in a hole in the wall English-version of a diner, baked beans, sausage, bacon, eggs, chips and toast, with what felt like the crew of Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, these rough and tough guys in navy blue Dixies overalls with flurescent plastic stripes with scars on their faces and cockney accents, swearing up a storm and telling nasty stories, and all of a sudden a pack of Italians, men dressed so well my jaw dropped, walked in with this thin lady dressed in Carhart pants. (?) I’ve never seen more beautiful clothes or more confident men, and it was the weirdest juxtaposition ever.
and then and then and then…so many things, and then I walked in on an Israeli Jew praying in full regalia, and a photojournalist and the craziest looking woman…
and I am in London, and I am so happy. and I am out of time. And I have no idea what I just wrote.