It's officially Monday and I'm in Heathrow, Terminal 4. Arrived safely after one of the bumpiest descents I've experienced in years. I'm completely out of it--awake though hazy at 2:41am my time. Not sure if I should have coffee, probably not, had some bitterly strong tea on the plane. Maybe I can nap a little on the next leg, which is only an hour shorter than the first leg.
I would also like to impress you with my packing prowess. I fit everything into a medium-sized rolling bag, which I checked, and a small backpack. The laptop just squeezes into the backpack, with room for a book, two magazines, an apple, granola bar, extra shirt, undies, chapstick, mini-hairbrush, and ipod.
I'm waiting for a gate. My flight is on the board but I don't know where I should go. I'm surrounded by a lot of non-tempting duty-free shopping. Following my habit, I ate everything they gave me on the plane. Well, I didn't eat the muffin or drink the oj that composed part of the breakfast. I did eat the yogurt.
Ah, how were the accommodations? Adequate. The meal was tasty--but I actually like airplane food. I like the presentation--all the little compartments. This food was decent and fresh. And the dessert was edible. Plus, along with the official cake, they gave you a mini-candy bar. That is my snack right now.
I was seated in the very back of the plane in the "plebian" section. We walked through first class, business class, which had deluxe sleeping "pods," and something slightly better than coach-class (seats with footrests!) before getting to where I sat. I paid $1,500 for the worst section on the plane. Whatever. I've never seen so many sections before. Even so, plebe-class was reasonably comfortable and I had my own little movie screen and 12 channels to choose from. The usual crappy movie selections, but, again, adequate.
I have my gate now. I'm going to go sit there.
Grateful for: a safe trip.