Last week, I was in some other country somewhere. Wild, right? I kept a running diary of how things were going and my thoughts and whatnot, and I liked it enough to want to share. This is the second day, and the first day is here.
I want to spend my birthday in bed. I don’t care that I just landed in another country. I just want to sleep forever.
My birthday started somewhere over the ocean, but with time zone changes and everything I’m a little unsure when it actually happened. I guess it truly started when we finally landed in Manchester. We weren’t supposed to be in Manchester. We were supposed to fly to London, but delayed flights meant rescheduling and rerouting and somehow we ended up in Manchester. I don’t know anything about this city other than the fact it houses two soccer clubs I hate and that the only likeable character in Downton Abbey was from here, but they killed him. That show sucks. Read More…
I just took a trip to the UK, which as it turns out is not just a school in Lexington with the most disgusting fanbase in college basketball. I wrote down my thoughts each day, and the thought progression ended up being pretty cool. So I’m going to share it.
Airports can be very strange, isolating places, but to me they seem very familiar. Everything about them is this funny little culture to me. The people gathered in one place with no connection with each other except the fact that they are trying to get to somewhere else. We’re all trying to get somewhere else. We have to get somewhere. Read More…