All you ever wanted to know about me .... and more: The Part 1

I can't BEGIN to tell you how tired I was when I got up to get ready for my long journey to the States. My flight left at 6:30am, this meant I had to be at the airport by 4:30am, this meant that I had to leave my house for the airport by 3:30am, THIS meant I had to get up no later than 2:30, this meant my alarm clock had to go off by 2am. 2am?! Seriously?! My plan Thursday night (I travelled Friday morning the 17th) was to go home from work at 4:30pm, do an hour work out, have a bath and get in bed by 6 and I could still get my 8 hours before the alarm went off. Well for any of you who know me, you know this didn't happen. One thing after another prevented me from getting into my bed as I watched time pass by: I left work 2 1/2 hours later than expected; my mom was sue to pick me up from the airport, but then wasn't going to be able to - so this meant I had to find a car rental at a decent price and book it; I still had to finish packing (my version of packing is to throw stuff in the suitcase); I had a friend staying at my flat while I was away and I had to sort some stuff out for her; and the list continued. I finally made it to my bed and got to sleep around 10. 4 hours of sleep isn't that bad - pretty good for me before a flight (on numerous occasions I've pulled an all-nighter packing and getting ready for the flight as I'm a last minute gal), but I knew I had a super long day in front of me and I was knackered!!!

The taxi driver that picked me up is a really sweet old guy originally from Turkey. He's drove me to the airport back in May when I went to the States in May. Bless him, he is sweet but he was hitting on me a bit too much for that early in the morning. How could he find me attractive without make up and with HUGE bags under my eyes?! I was flattered never-the-less. He told me to call him and he'd drive me around the city so I could see how beautiful it was at night. I came back with "oh, that'd be too expensive for me to do in a taxi". He said that I misunderstood, he wasn't going to charge me. [grimise] Slightly uncomfortable but I plastered on a smile and somehow tried to change the topic.

Now let me state something for the record here. I hate flying. The more I fly, the more I grow to hate it. I'm uncomfortable, my skin gets really dry, so dry that it itches. My blood sugars plummet when we land which makes me feel sick unwell - this means I have to wear travel sick bands and make sure I have bought an over-priced juice from the airport once I'm through security. Basically I just hate it, but I love visiting new places and I love to see my family, so I endure the flights. This trip I had a flight from London to Amsterdam and then from Amsterdam to Dallas.

First leg of the journey was a packed flight to Amsterdam. It was only an hour and I had a window seat, so not too bad of a flight. I was amused by the 50 year old guy that sat next to me that was hitting on me throughout the flight. He was nice enough - but seriously?! He was a foot shorter than me and twice my age - seriously?! Man number 2 hitting on me while I'm half asleep with no makeup ... interesting. His efforts kept me amused and flattered for the journey, so all was well.

Once I had passed through security in London, I bought some drinks that my sister and brother-in-law like (I'd planned on getting them after work on Thursday, but as mentioned above, I ran out of time) and had had shoved them in my carry on. In Amsterdam I only had about 30 minutes to get from one gate to the other (my arriving flight was slightly delayed). I was surprised when I got to my gate in Amsterdam to see a security check point - apparently in Amsterdam the security point (ie where they confiscate liquids) is at each individual gate! This meant that the drinks I bought got taken off me. I was outraged - I'd spent an extortionate price on them as I'd gotten them at the airport. Grrr! Oh well, expensive lesson learned.

The flight from Amsterdam to Dallas was my best economy* transatlantic flight. It was a pretty empty flight and I ended up having the 4 middle seats to myself ... I got to stretch out and sleep! Yippee! Granted it wasn't the most comfortable sleep and I woke up every 30 minutes or so ... but come on - I wasn't cramped in one little bucket seat with no leg room and someone drooling on my shoulder that had fallen asleep next to me. I was happy! I struck up a conversation with the couple seated next to "my row" and they were a pretty nice couple. We have even exchanged emails since the flight. Over all that flight was pretty tolerable.

Me trying to get some shut eye at the beginning of the trip - look how pathetic I look! Dear me!

Bright-eyed and bushy tailed I am here, just before landing in Dallas. I guess the broken sleep did me good, cause I wasn't really tired, and I was excited to get to see my mother!

So I mentioned that my mother was meant to pick me up, but then she couldn't pick me up, but then (at 4am) while in the airport in London, I spoke to Mom (10pm her time) and she said she was going to pick me up. Yippee hoary! It's so much nicer to be greeted at the airport, and I can't remember the last trip I made where someone was waiting to pick me up! Such a nice treat. Well ... I say someone waiting for me. Mom got stuck in traffic, so I actually waited for her for a little.

This is typical of my mother: she doesn't rush out of the car to give her baby girl a hug and tell her how happy she is to see her - she rushes out of the car to take a picture, then she gives her baby girl a hug and greeting. We love her anyway, and her pictures :-)

Usually one of the first things out of my mouth when I arrive in America is "where's Taco Bell?" Taco Bell is one of my favourite restaurants. It's a fast food tex-mex and super yummy. Mom snapped a picture of me heading back to the car with my yummy food in hand.

Mom was getting stressed and irritated by driving, so I took over the wheel. She had the camera at the ready!

I needed to go to Paris for my reunion, but as Mom and Dad moved, I had no home to go back to. Bob and Martha (Martha's one of my faithful blog readers) were kind enough to host Mom and my whirlwind trip through Paris. I felt bad coming and going from their home, but I was glad to get to spend some time with them!

This is me arriving at their house (Mom always has the camera ready!)