Roight! Whot sall 'is then?

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The Little Green Man stands guard over our table at Heathrow

London, in the state of England -
While it's long since been proven that the Finest People in the World travel by night, an international red-eye is always a good reminder. Wedged between a woman who never had a thought she didn't verbalize and an Icelandic family of five, the Staff and Management of The Nationals Post set out for Londontown. The good ship and crew were scheduled for a prompt 19:15 departure, and - true to form - we embarked at precisely 19:52. As the Cap'n explained it; there was a "minor glitch" with one of the craft's onboard computer systems. The plane went completely dark, then lit-up like a bowling alley on dollar beer night, then went to normal lighting. Twice. Once this was done, we were "air worthy". So the turn-it-off-and-turn-it-back-on-again rule also applies to A330's.

At Heathrow, we purchased one of those universal adapters that allows one to plug anything into anything. We promptly plugged Norse into one end of it and Cantonese came out. Then we found a spare outlet and plugged in our Mac, iPod, camera, and hairdryer. Planes started losing altitude, so we disconnected the camera.

We have an uncanny knack for landing in ques behind horrible people. Today, it was at the the Krappy Koffee Kiosk at Gatwick. A Jamaican gentleman had just purchased his go-juice. The cashier made an minor counting error, and shorted him £1.00. He began a slow-burning scolding, noting to the lady that, "he cannot afford to endure such costly mistakes". After the cashier politely apologized and handed him the additional pound (she hadn't yet shut the drawer), he demanded his receipt.
"I already gave you your receipt, sir."
"No you didn't. I need that receipt!"
"You put it in your pocket."
"It's not here. GIVE ME MY RECEIPT, NOW."
"Ass", said we.
He glanced at us, but continued to the cashier, "You are incompetent. Now give me my receipt."
"Sir, I gave you your receipt."
We jumped into the conversation again, since we knew we would never see him again, and besides, we could take him, "Perhaps did Jamaica mistake-ka?"
He fumbled through some other pockets and finally retrieved the receipt.
"Here it is. I have it."
He then gathered his pocket leavings and leveled his bony finger in the cashier's face.
"Focus" he said with a dead-eye stare, and he started to leave.
"Don't forget your coffee too!" we inserted helpfully and with a big smile.

The best part about being a traveling American is that nobody knows where you live, and everybody assumes you have a gun.

We are now blogging as we await the arrival of Barry the Fine Gent from Kent. Together, we will fly from Gatwick to Gran Canaria. Mark will be waiting for us at the airport to whisk us away to the Maverick Dream. No question; he'll be there waiting for us. No question at all.

http://www.worldcruising.com/arc/



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