I left the house early this morning. Gupta drove me to the airport. Gupta is not an Asian gentleman, he's British, ex-army, a minicab driver who is called Gupta by his colleagues because of, shall we say, his 'views'. He doesn't have a good word for Siddique Khan, he's a Brexiteer, you get the drift, but today he was surprisingly restrained. It was raining and grey, but now, many hours later and after an eight-hour BA flight (BA207) I find myself in the sunshine state of Florida and Miami Airport. I'm not going to leave the airport as I'm connecting to Monterrey in Mexico. In fact, right now, I'm sitting at Gate E33 having gone through immigration and back through security. I'm not even that hungry so I'm sitting at the gate writing. The flight over from Heathrow was smooth and relatively painless. I met an American chappy and we chatted most of the way over about Trump and the Joe Biden Ukraine case and how the USA is rife with corruption and that's why nobody really likes Hillary Clinton because (this guy says) the Clintons were corrupt and that's why Trump got elected because he's setting out to do things, unlike past presidents: he'll build his wall, keep his country safe from illegal immigrants and say it like it is. The USA is a corrupt place and it's all because of money and greed and vested interests, according to my new friend. The healthcare system is there to make money, not heal people, and the food is shit because it's supposed to be because if people get ill they enter the healthcare system, which is all profit-based and, well, it's a vicious circle. No surprise that he wants to leave and live in Europe, but he likes the sunshine in Miami and that'll probably sway things for a while.
I ate chicken curry and a rock hard bread roll and a small pot of some kind of chocolatey mousse and then there was nothing until an hour or two before we landed. Then we got a mini Magnum and then about an hour later a smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwich and some tea. It was a good flight and now I'm waiting for another one. I think it's going to take around three hours, across the Gulf of Mexico and there's not much in the way of eating establishments. I mean, there's Wynwood Warehouse Bar, which isn't at all appealing, and there's a Versailles Cafe selling cakes and stuff and that's not appealing either. So I'm sitting here writing this, listening to a toddler crying about something and looking out on the 29-degree heat outside. There's cloud and there's blue skies and the heat hit me hard as I jumped off the transatlantic flight on to the jetty, heading for passport control. There were queues, but it was bearable and soon I was through and now I'm here at Gate E33. The toddler is still whining about something, yelping like a dog at times and there's a baseball game on the television screen in front of me. Max Scherzer, I'm assuming he's the guy with the bat. He's out, he's been struck out, says the commentator. And now there's a Corona Premier ad. I could do with a cold beer, but I don't drink, it's nearly been two years and as I've said many times I don't really need to drink anymore.
People are gathering for the flight and there's about an hour to go; I might get a cup of tea, but that's all I need. Yesterday night back in the UK I went out for dinner and foolishly ordered a Tiramisu for dessert. Now there's a dessert that'll make you stop all desserts, it's so unhealthy. I resolved there and then not to eat any more shit. I'm always eating shit: biscuits mainly, but cake too and large 'caff' meals down at the Pop Inn. This week just past I think I had my fair share of custard. Two (or was it three?) apple pies and custard for lunch, alongside my favourite fillet of chicken baguette and then stewed apples and custard at home. Talk about custard overload! So, after the Tiramisu you can imagine how I was feeling. In a nutshell I was feeling ashamed of myself.
The baseball's back on and they're making an announcement. Russell something is being asked to go to gate something or other to catch a British Airways flight, presumably back to Blighty. I saw a massive Jumbo jet at one of the gates and I'm assuming that's the plane he ought to be on. More people have gathered for the American Airlines flight 4494 to Monterrey. It departs at 5.51pm and it's on time. There's not much else to say right now so I'll sign off. More to come.
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| Breakfast at Terminal 3 |
I ate chicken curry and a rock hard bread roll and a small pot of some kind of chocolatey mousse and then there was nothing until an hour or two before we landed. Then we got a mini Magnum and then about an hour later a smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwich and some tea. It was a good flight and now I'm waiting for another one. I think it's going to take around three hours, across the Gulf of Mexico and there's not much in the way of eating establishments. I mean, there's Wynwood Warehouse Bar, which isn't at all appealing, and there's a Versailles Cafe selling cakes and stuff and that's not appealing either. So I'm sitting here writing this, listening to a toddler crying about something and looking out on the 29-degree heat outside. There's cloud and there's blue skies and the heat hit me hard as I jumped off the transatlantic flight on to the jetty, heading for passport control. There were queues, but it was bearable and soon I was through and now I'm here at Gate E33. The toddler is still whining about something, yelping like a dog at times and there's a baseball game on the television screen in front of me. Max Scherzer, I'm assuming he's the guy with the bat. He's out, he's been struck out, says the commentator. And now there's a Corona Premier ad. I could do with a cold beer, but I don't drink, it's nearly been two years and as I've said many times I don't really need to drink anymore.
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| Heading for Gate 40 at T3 |
People are gathering for the flight and there's about an hour to go; I might get a cup of tea, but that's all I need. Yesterday night back in the UK I went out for dinner and foolishly ordered a Tiramisu for dessert. Now there's a dessert that'll make you stop all desserts, it's so unhealthy. I resolved there and then not to eat any more shit. I'm always eating shit: biscuits mainly, but cake too and large 'caff' meals down at the Pop Inn. This week just past I think I had my fair share of custard. Two (or was it three?) apple pies and custard for lunch, alongside my favourite fillet of chicken baguette and then stewed apples and custard at home. Talk about custard overload! So, after the Tiramisu you can imagine how I was feeling. In a nutshell I was feeling ashamed of myself.
The baseball's back on and they're making an announcement. Russell something is being asked to go to gate something or other to catch a British Airways flight, presumably back to Blighty. I saw a massive Jumbo jet at one of the gates and I'm assuming that's the plane he ought to be on. More people have gathered for the American Airlines flight 4494 to Monterrey. It departs at 5.51pm and it's on time. There's not much else to say right now so I'll sign off. More to come.
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