Just call me the wanderer

Well, we made it, safe and sound. Pretty uneventful; however, for Krip, it was a whole 'nuther story and I will get to him in a minute.

Found out it doesn't pay to sit in the back of the plane sometimes.

One, you get to smell the food that you aren't about to get in your wildest dreams, unless you win the lotto (lottery, for my American friends). While we got the manky, dry old pretzels, you know who were getting the nice warm snacks that smelt so damn good.

Two, by the time the flight waitresses reached us there was no, 'Chicken or Beef?' There was just beef. They had already run out of chicken. After eating our beef, I could kinda see why. I mean the beef wasn't really bad; however, it wasn't really good either. I am kinda wonderin' what the chicken was all about though.

And three, as far as "breakfast" goes, it was a repeat of the snack rendition at the beginning of the flight. My youngest was salivating over the smell of bacon and eggs; but much to her chagrin, the only thing she was going to get from that breakfast was the aroma. We got a croissant, yogurt, etc.

Needless to say, I felt rather guilty during the plane trip that we haven't managed to win the lotto.

Customs and all was a breeze. In fact, the customs' officer got rather excited because I remembered to bring my youngest's return ticket to show him that, indeed, I did plan on putting her on a plane two weeks from now to go back to school, and that I had absolutely, positively no intention of adding another illegal immigrant to the mounting swell of illegal immigrants that are here in the U.K. already. Besides, I would have told him, if he had asked, that my daughter was not the type he was looking for in an illegal immigrant anyway. She is highly intelligent, and if she continues on the path she is on, will be able to contribute to society and not be on the dole (welfare, etc.). However, since he didn't ask, I thought it might be a wise move not to volunteer said information; I mean, afterall, things were going rather peachy and I thought it would be in my best interest not to.

Then after I showed him how well I could think ahead for any pitfall, he gleefully called me a very "smart girl..." For a second there, I did think he was going to pat me on my head. Course when he finished praising me, I thought I would have like to swat the back of his head; which, of course I didn't or I probably wouldn't be here telling you all of this.

So what, may you ask did he say at the end of that sentence that brought me up short? The whole sentence was, "You are a very smart girl, especially for an American, since so many of them go 'huh?' when I ask to see their return tickets." I gave him an award winning smile and said "Thanks!" [asshole, quietly under my breath].

Now as for Krip. Have you ever been in a situation where you hear this type of phrase?

"Ah, Houston, we got a problem..." or 'A funny thing happened on the way to the Coliseum, sweetheart...'

Yeah, well that's kinda what my first conversation with Krip was.

I called, as pre-arranged when we landed, which incidently was 7 a.m. (U.K. time), all excited, just knowing that in about 30 to 45 minutes it would be like the beach scene in '10', me minus the cornrows.

Right.

Wrong.

Anyway, I called. Told him where I was, and then he proceeded to tell me that he had some bad news. He left the house at 6:15 a.m., got eight miles from home, and came to a dead stop on the M-26 due to a traffic jam, due to a wreck just outside Maidstone.
In which, I said that's okay, I'd see him when we got on the other side of customs and such.

No problem, right?

Wrong.

I called him back when we got out of customs. He was at a dead stop, in a traffic jam, due to a wreck somewhere on the M-25. Poor guy finally showed up almost two hours after we landed. Wound up having to pay a stinking £2.10 (almost $5) to park for approximately 15 minutes.

And as you've probably already guessed, it was not like the beach scene in '10'either, but rather Krip giving me a quick hug and peck on the cheek, telling me it was so good to see us and

"but, honey, I got to go pee."

So after an hour and forty-five minute drive to Raligh-Durham Interntational Airport; after a six hour flight and 3,883 (thousand) miles; after a two hour wait, and another hour and a half drive back home (due to traffic backed up, still), we finally made it back.

All in one piece. It only took ten hours and fifteen minutes to go from Little Mama's door to my door.

And did I mention the two dozen beautiful yellow roses that awaited me?

Oh, I am a lucky girl.