Flying By Numbers

W ell, folks, I’m back.

And rather than get straight into the OMGDEPRESSION I feel at being back, I’m just going to go right back to the start of my trip, and systematically bore you with all of my stories and photos. Then, when I get to the end, I might just do it all over again, and in this way I will relive my holiday over and over again, right up until the next one. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I’m starting off with the the trip from London Heathrow to San Francisco, during which I managed to clock up the following Random Acts of Stupidity:

# of times I left my “baggie” full of liquids at security and had to run back for it, with just minutes to spare before our flight – 1

# of times something leaked inside said “baggie”, soaking the contents of my handbag – 2

# of times I threw my Kindle across the aisle of the aircraft and almost into the lap of the gentleman sitting across the aisle from me – 3

# of drinks spilled over Terry’s crotch – 1

# of times I caught my watch strap on my bag, causing it to drop off my wrist – 3

# of times this happened before even leaving Edinburgh – 3

# of times Lady Gaga disrupted the entire cabin, courtesy of an alarm on my phone which I’d forgotten to disable – 2

# of contact lenses lost during the flight – # 1 (subsequently found stuck to my knee, a dried-up husk of a thing. The contact lens, I mean. Not my knee.)

# of times I lost my Liz Earle Superbalm during the flight – about 27, culminating in it being lost for good just before we landed.

# of times I complained about this – 92

And finally, having reached San Francisco, the # of times I failed to heed the warning presented by this notice in the entrance to our hotel bathroom, and almost fell flat on my face?

About 1,473.

In contrast, the flight back from LAX yesterday was pretty uneventful, save for two things:

1. The aircon unit that started leaking onto my head halfway across the Atlantic. Trust me, when you’re a nervous flyer, the very last thing you want as you sit there trying to get some sleep on the plane is to feel a steady drip, drip on your head, and to think, “Oh, it must be raining outside… wait… CRAP!”

2. The fact that I almost caused my family to miss our connection at Heathrow, due to the Kurt Geiger shoe sale in Terminal 5. Sorry, family. (It was a REALLY good sale, though…)

I do, of course, have many (many, many…) more stories and photos to share, but I also have laundry to do, sleep to catch up with, and a lot of whining about being back home to get through, so for now I’m just going to leave you with these random photos of my new Bettie Page Captain dress, purchased in San Francisco, and the Hollywood sign, neither of which have anything to do with this post at all. Enjoy!