Chicago de avion:
Napkin from plane.
And one of the languages is huge bitch. Airline name withheld.
But it rhymes with bunited.
Sunset. Ahhhh. Reminds me of (Insert loved one's name/place here)
The Toronto airport is officially the most confusing location I have ever been to.
Here is me. Get off plane, get moved cattle herd style to some hallway, down a long corridor, through an area with a guy who only said two things, "This way, That way", past him, down an escalator, to a bathroom because I hadn't peed since Chicago(Luke observation: Apparently its alright for men to just wash the hand they use to pee. Because thats what the two gents did in front of me. I washed both.) Move from washroom to customs booth and was asked, "What are you here for?" I wanted to tell her I was here to wash my hands but refrained. Through the customs booth to the immigration line, where Sally McSmokedfor30years, asked me stuff about my job and if I'd commited any crimes, I told her that I was on the run from the Palestinian government. Not really. Get my passport stamped with authority, go through a sliding glass door that was probably the first one ever made. Wait for my luggage that I didn't know I had to pick up. So I sit for a good 20 minutes trying to vie for a position with 13 Asian women. So as the "patiently" wait for their black bags, I see a light come from the conveyer, my blue bag. Thank you Dillards for that amazing sale. Get my bag, rolling towards freedom, through a doorway similar to one in a horror movie, remember its 7:30 at night, only to go through another security checkpoint where I stroll through without the security gang breaking their conversation on internet usage. Around a corner to find the longest hallway ever. Have a miniature Asian woman on a go-cart/golf-cart whisk me down to gate 100-199. Then get a mumbled story about taking a shuttle, proceed to get on the shuttle(Luke says: At this point I thought they were just driving me to a field to off me.) Shuttle drops me off at my appropriate Terminal. Get off shuttle, ask guy if there is a bar. He says, "How much time do you have?" I says, "2 hours." He says, "That's too long." I am thoroughly confused and press on. Find a bar and have $30 worth Molson Canadian, an hour of hockey watching and mingling with the friendly staff of Toronto's Finest Airport. God bless the Canadians. Get to London, throw bag in room, take Sunfire to T.J. Baxters and the Angry Frog, enjoy live music and Caffrey's(very dark beer), get back to London Armouries
So now I'm off in my Pontiac to discover London, other than it is a college town and there are 114 pizza shops in the phone book. And the guy at the hotel gift shop gave me 12 magazines for free and let me have a Coke on the finger.
Love you kids. Email me firstname.lastname@example.org with some kind words.