Salutations from the Big Smoke
Although my phone thinks it's 10.46 am, it is most
definitely quarter to three in the afternoon, and I'm writing this from our room
in Chandos House. The flight over wasn't too bad, especially compared to last
year. The plane was almost empty, the power outlet worked fine, the food was
edible and I even got a good nap, courtesy of half a little blue pill and swift
vodka.
The journey from Detroit's B
terminal to the international departures in A was a little odd. Under
construction last year, or perhaps excised from my memory, a long tunnel
connects the two. The tunnel's walls are lined in frosted glass, backlit with
everchanging colours, accompanied by music. Sometimes it's soothing greens and
blues and the kind of wishy-washy ambient music you sometimes hear on NPR later
in the evening. Then everything turns a deep red along with power chords - not
quite as relaxing, and I'd hate to be stuck in there if I was already nervous
about flying.
Posted: Wed - January 25, 2006 at 03:56 pm