March 20, 2005
My trip to the US of A
It will be written-up as and when I can be arsed have time.
For the purposes of people who are reading this for the first time, "Sassy" is also known as "Kharysma".
Here is the first update:
The flight was short and sweet. 52 movies were available, I saw two of them. Alfie was first up. Utter pants compared to the original. Time was not to be wasted in mourning, however, as I leapt straight into Garden State. Somehow I had managed to fool myself this was going to be a stoner comedy. Boy was I wrong. After watching these two mind-numbingly cack-fisted hack jobs, I tried to keep my brain alive by watching a documentary about how vitamin supplements can actually be bad for you. The damn annoying thing was, I ran out of time and missed the end half, so I don't actually know why. Oh well.
My plane landed at Logan airport. Not that I own a plane you understand, but the plane in which I was held prisoner for many gruelling hours finally landed on a slightly snowy/slushy runway. At one point I was sure that we'd actually end up spinning off into another plane. If only.
I walked power-walked ran past everyone that had left the plane before me. That is my number 1 tip for people who fly. Do not be affraid to run past these fools. If you waste time before customs, you will end up stuck behind hundreds of them and wishing you were back on the plane listening to outdated radio stations and eating snack foods that contain no flavours what-so-ever.
I had been forewarned of cold weather, but I am English. We do not fear the American "cold". I was wearing a T-shirt that said "I need more cowbell!" and I think this is why I was rushed through customs. They may have rushed me through, but they still took my fingerprints, the bastards. What do they have against me? I started to get nervous. Was I the only one they did this to? What would happen next?
I did not have to wait long to find out. As I told customs I was not carrying any tobacco, it suddenly dawned on me that I had indeed bought 10 pouches of rolling tobacco in duty-free shopping. The sweat must have been obvious, and I started to fumble on those easy questions like "How long will you be staying in the US, sir?".
Shit. "Errr, a week... I think" I said meekly. I knew as soon as I said it, that things could turn bad at any moment. I ws cracking up under the pressure. I needed to act cool. I should say something.
"Seven days." I blurted out. Oh, you simpering fool, skoo. You simpering fool! I realised later, that this was not only a line from The Ring, but I was actually intending to stay for eight days. This was my second, albeit unintentional, lie.
Just to recap: We now have a tired and dishevelled Englishman in a freezing cold US airport, wearing a "comedy" t-shirt, and dripping with sweat. I must have looked so guilty that it double bluffed him. Ha! Before I could tell anymore lies, my visa was stamped. I was free to buy guns and leave tips for anything that moves.
Or so I thought.
I made my way to baggage reclaim. Here I wasted perhaps 20 minutes of my life watching a variety of bags moving around the conveyor belt like some sort of badly prepared sushi. "Holy shit, that's my bag!" I thought.
With hindsight I think I was perhaps a little too happy to see my bag.
I somehow got past the next customs agent in record time, he literally only required a waft of my passport, and I was now finally free from the shackles of airport oppression.
[to be continued...]
Posted by skoo on March 20, 2005 09:30 PM
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