Ouch

Well. That was quite possibly the worst of all my flights from the US to the UK.

On a nearly empty plane, I was not the only person with a whole row of seats to myself... just the only person in a row of seats with armrests that didn't move. Twice, just as I was just beginning to doze off, the plane ran into some long-lasting hard turbulence. Children began screaming, couples grabbed each other's hands, and I thought, "damn it, I am not going to sleep at all if this keeps happening!"

I would not have made it through the day if my friend Kitty hadn't met me at the airport. I was so tired I was ill. Movement near me made me nausiated and I was starved and yet completely unable to eat. The exertion of pulling my suitcase around caused the world to spin. I was cold and then hot and then cold again.

When we finally made it back to my flat, I kept falling asleep and waking myself up saying, "I'm awake! I'm awake!" I couldn't eat a thing, not even toast.

Today I've spent most of the day in bed but I'm aiming to go see some friends tonight if I can handle standing long enough to walk to the tube.


Damn, I'd forgotten how much I hate traveling in this direction...