Re-Americanized

I just flew back from England (this is where I'm supposed to say, "And boy are my arms tired!") and boy am I tired! You wouldn't think that sitting on a plane could wear you out, but it can, and did. Still, the awesomeness of England made it well worth the trip, even taking into account my strong dislike of flying. I know that, statistically speaking, I'm safer on a plane than in my car, but then again I don't have to worry about falling 33,000 feet out of my Corolla.

I managed to get four hours' sleep on the flight over (nap sponsored by Prince Valium), so I arrived at Heathrow relatively fresh compared to other trips. In fact, that selfsame day I visited Bletchley Park, where the Brits cracked the Enigma code. Very neat place. During the trip I also visited the Winston Churchill Museum, Dover Castle (where the white cliffs are), various spots in London, and a supermarket. That last one sounds dull, but it wasn't. I got to peek around and see what the English buy at their version of Acme, otherwise known as Waitrose. Most of the stuff was unfamiliar, but I did see Betty Crocker, Kellogg's and, of course, Coca-Cola. The weather was clear by English standards, meaning it was variably mostly sunny and completely cloudy, but there was little rain, and my umbrella was ne'er unfurled. I also discovered that asking for root beer in an English restaurant is like putting Republicans in charge of Congress: you get nowhere. Trying to describe the taste of root beer is even harder, but I did my darnedest. I said root beer was like chocolate soda with a touch of cinnamon, but you can post a better description in the comments if you have one.

Getting back was fun. The check-in lines were mobbed, as was security, so by the time I finished all that rigamarole my flight was on last call. I ran like Bruce Jenner to my gate, leaping luggage and dodging strollers and was the last person on the plane. Naturally the plane didn't get going until nearly one hour late, so my athletics were as unnecessary as they were unappreciated. My seatmate was quite the Gloomy Gus, and his mood was not improved by the empty plastic water bottle I accidentally dropped on his head. Well. Anyway, I saw the 3rd X-Men film on the way back, though, which was fun though utterly predictable. I got into Philadelphia, had to steal a cab from an autocratic yet inept taxi-Nazi*, and got home to homemade fettucini Alfredo. Did I ever say what a treasure Dan is?

Oh, and I did see the BSG episode that aired whilst I was away, so I am now unspoilerable.

* Isn't there something really odd about this word pairing? I can't take my eyes off it.