Despite the ease with which I entered the USA – automated passport machines making the process very smooth and preventing any large build-up of queues – getting out proved a little tiresome. Having checked in I joined a long queue of people that slowly edged its way forward and took a good 30 minutes of shuffling before reaching a uniformed man checking everybody's documents.
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| Phil and Andy, Tatsfield Churchyard, Sunday 18 October 2015 |
Then there was the usual humiliation of being herded, like animals, through the scanner, with various uniformed bozos shouting orders as people kicked off shoes and unfastened belts and then, as if by magic, the perfumed environment of the magical world 'beyond passport control' appeared.
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| "Where's my sausage sandwich, chaps? Oh." |
A pleasant flight followed and I reached home around 1000hrs on Friday morning, but jet lag put paid to any thoughts of cycling. It was abort texts all round on Saturday and Sunday, and today Phil and Andy rode to the Tatsfield Churchyard without me – where they ate all the sausage sandwiches.
