Heathrow, my old nemesis

You again. Oh, we meet again. You haven’t changed much. Still struggling to add that whole 5th Terminal thing, but other than that the same old Heathrow. You slut.

First things first. Arrived at Heathrow hungry, my own fault, but whatever. After queueing for what seemed like hours to check in my single piece of luggage, went in search of something remotely healthy/satisfying. Found a bagel joint. Oh, they got me! I looked at the board, which was terribly designed and confusing, and determined that a bagel with one spread is £1.15, or something. Reasonable, I suppose. But in fact one spread doesn’t cover cream cheese. CC and humus are listed separately, and cost A LOT more. Can you believe that for two bagels w/cc and a coke I paid £6! Six fuckin pounds. I’m not even going to convert that into dollars – its absurd on any continent.

As if bagel-gate wasn’t enough, I had to deal with the snide remarks of the greezy Frenchman behind the counter. Seeing my obvious disapproval (and perhaps hearing my comments) he proceeded to add “Maybe in America bagels are cheap, but this is England”. As if he’s English.

I, not being a great writer, cannot express through written words the degree of anger that filled me at that moment. For the first time since perhaps my teen years, I wanted to leap across the counter and smash his face into the wall – leaving him in a bloody unconsciousness. But I restrained myself – airports are not the best place to get down and dirty, especially in London where the police are a bit trigger happy toward brown-skinned men. That and hunger.

After writing the preceding paragraphs, the nearly 3-hour delay seems inconsequential. Sleeping on a wooden bench, listening to audiobooks, wandering around the overpriced-yet-duty-free shops.

The flight, however, was brilliant. Virgin is by the far the best airline to get from New York to London and back. But I profess, Brokeback Mountain is a silly fucking movie. Skip it.

10

Jul 2006

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