In Monterrey, Mexico...

Once off the flight from Miami and through passport control, I found my suitcase on the baggage carousel and took a taxi to the hotel. The taxi driver didn't speak a word of English and because I don't speak Spanish we sat in silence for the drive from the airport. After going round in circles for a short while, we found the hotel and all was fine. I checked in at the front desk and I was having trouble staying awake, but soon I was given my key card (room 2612 on the top floor) and off I went. The lift required me to use my room card, which I did, and soon I arrived. All I wanted to do was sleep, but I couldn't. Or rather I could, but, well, there were problems. First, toothpaste. Oh, and a toothbrush. I'd forgotten to pack them. Within five minutes a man appeared at the door with a toothbrush, but no toothpaste so I walked to front desk, 26 floors below, and bought a small tube for 40 pesos. Finally, it was time for bed. Or was it? There was a throbbing, pulsating noise that I initially thought was the air-con, but no, it was the machinery used to power the elevators. The room shook and I soon realised that I was not going to sleep, not ever. I called reception. Five minutes elapsed and another man arrived. "Can't you hear it?" I said. He thought it was the air-con so I took him outside, into the corridor. "It's out here too," said I. They decided to re-house me, three floors down, in a junior suite with automatic curtains and a television that emerged from behind the desk. I wasn't impressed, but the room was quiet.

Room 2619 - nice but noisy, very noisy...

Room 2319 - nice and quiet...

I slept for about five hours and then found myself awake and calling home. All was well. I stayed up, started writing the last post, which was already written in longhand, and then took a shower. There's a rain shower and it was great and much needed. Breakfast was good too: scrambled egg, diced potatoes, yoghurt, cereal and three small pastries, not forgetting a vanilla tea. Afterwards I took a look at the pool and the gym - they have a stationary bike, two in fact, but I can only use one at a time. I then took a walk in the early morning sunshine on a quest to find a razor, shaving foam, everything. I bought a razor in a 7-Eleven, the only shop open in a huge mall, and then found a huge supermarket that sold massive flat-screen televisions, barbecue equipment, absolutely everything, even bananas. I bought a bunch of eight and moseyed on back to the room. I was still tired, but I went out again, the plan being to visit the restaurant recommended by Mike the flight attendant, but I couldn't get the ATM to work so instead I went to a pretentious restaurant where I ordered a chicken broth followed by artichoke risotto. I wasn't that keen if I'm honest. When the soup arrived I thought they'd messed up. A bowl of diced chicken and vegetables was put before me, but it wasn't soup. I thought it was a chicken salad. Ah! I get it, the guy had a jug of hot broth in his hands and proceeded to pour it over the vegetables making it a kind of vegetable soup. Yeah, right. In my book if you need a fork to eat it, it's not soup. I needed a fork. The risotto was equally unappealing. A kind of beige mush like something a cat brought up, with crunchy bits. I was glad when it was over as I also had to fend off a gang of flies intent on eating my food. I ordered sparkling mineral water on ice and then remembered that perhaps I shouldn't be having ice, not here, not in Mexico. I felt like booking ahead for an appointment with my toilet. "Shall we say three in the morning, sir?" That'll do nicely. Not! My arse is in the lap of the gods. Let's hope it's not a problem.

View from room 2319...

More views from room 2319...

I returned to the hotel and decided to lie down for an hour. I set the alarm and 60 minutes later was awakened by David Bowie. "Don't let me hear you say life's taking you nowhere...". I need to register for a conference I'm attending tomorrow so what do I do? I sit here, like I am right now, writing this blog. Well, I've got to get dressed and go.

Did I mention the view from my room? No? It's amazing: the city, the mountains, wonderful (see photos above). Transmission by Joy Division is blasting out of my iPhone. "Radio, live transmission...". After this track I'm heading on out, it's 1644hrs here, the sun is out, it's hot and I need to register, then I can relax.

It's now 2137hrs, I've attended a cocktail reception and now I'm back in my room. The air-con is on and it's got to go off soon because there's a cold breeze and it's not good.

Notes from American Airlines Flight 4494 Miami to Monterrey (Mexico)

Earlier, before I boarded the flight, a man checking passports ahead of security told me I looked like James Bond and I hadn't even opened my mouth to reveal my English accent. Really? James Bond? Who's he kidding? Either way, for a while I walked a little taller until I caught sight of myself in a mirror. I look more like Russ Abbot's Basildon Bond, I thought, remembering that I look nothing like Daniel Craig either and that the man checking the passports was either being a cheeky chappy - entertaining the weary passengers and keeping their spirits high - or he was simply a fool. Probably a mixture of the two.

I'm now sitting in seat 8a of a small and nippy little plane, an Embraer 170. There's two rows of two seats and an aisle in between and we're heading for the runway. The plane is not full and I have nobody sitting next to me in seat 8b.

Miami airport from seat 8A of the plane...

Monterrey in Mexico is a two-hour, 50-minute flight, almost three hours. Basically we're heading - or will be heading when we take off - across the Gulf of Mexico. Outside of the window I can see tarmac, grass and palm trees. There's cloud, but blue skies above them. And now we are airborne having raced along the runway at breakneck speed. We're climbing steeply away from Miami. Below I can see the freeway and the downtown and the sea and motorboats as we bank left. The engines slow and we level out and disappear into the cloud before breaking through soon after and find blue skies and sunshine. A blinding sun and a bed of cotton wool below us. The cloud could be snow.

I could do with a cup of tea. There's two cabin crew on board: one male, one female and I'm guessing the guy is in charge of the first class because he's just unravelled a kind of mosquito net, a grey net curtain, that now separates first class from the rest of us, although the truth is that first class on this tiny plane isn't worth the paper it's written on; it's basically no different from what is on offer beyond row seven.

My ears are popping. Perhaps it's something to do with being in a smaller plane (the flight from London was a 747-400). Either way the ear popping is of no consequence.

The female member of cabin crew has handed me some forms that I need to fill out as the plane embarks upon its flight across the Gulf of Mexico. The cloud below has gone and there is nothing but blue below us. I've been handed a cookie, although it's really a Lotus Biscoff. It's fairly light and I have another eating rule I need to explain. All rules are off when I'm flying. It's okay to have a biscuit or a cake or some pretzels because it's all part of the allotted meal being offered. Also, you're on a plane so who's to say it's not going to be your last meal? "In the unlikely event that the food being handed out by our cabin crew is to be your last meal, we suggest that you scoff the lot."

Not long after take-off from Miami...

The biscuit was free and so, I'm guessing, there will be a free cup of tea too, although it's yet to arrive. I could do with another Biscoff, but somehow I don't think I'll get one. Oh! Hold the bus! They've just announced that the hot beverage service will begin shortly. Well, when they turn up with a trolley I order a lime-infused mineral water with ice and have a chat with the male member of the cabin crew, a nice guy and just how all cabin crew should be: friendly, helpful, you name it. Mike (because that's his name) gets top marks for being probably the best example of how cabin crew should behave towards the passengers. He told me that Monterrey was one of the safest Mexican cities, which was reassuring, as all the bad press Mexico seems to be getting at the moment was playing on my mind. Here's hoping I don't meet any 'bad hombres'.

I ask you: is there much better than flying over the Gulf of Mexico on a clear day with a chilled glass of lime-infused mineral water on ice? Yes, I'm sure there is, but right now it suits me fine.

The seat belt sign has been switched off, always a good moment in my opinion. This is proving to be a good flight and I'm enjoying every minute of it so far. When flights are like this I want to stay up here, flying around for hours, it's very relaxing, and writing notes like I am now relaxes me. What's more, there's plenty of leg room, its a lot more comfortable than BA 207 from London Heathrow to London.

Below us the cloud has re-appeared, but we are still over the sea. They've just come round to collect rubbish, which I reckon means that's the end of the drinks service. At least it was free.

For some reason - and this is going to sound a little pretentious - I can hear Rossini's Thieving Magpie as clear as day playing inside my head; I think it's my mind or my brain playing tricks on me because I should be in bed asleep, buyt I'm sitting here at 35,000 feet writing in broad daylight when my body clock is saying it's well past my bedtime. Lack of sleep and jet lag is strange, but there you have it. I 'm really looking forward to reaching my hotel. I need a good night's sleep.

For a while I snoozed, not properly, just five minutes here and there, but I have no idea of what time it is. Outside there is a slight haze and an occasional, mild shake from the plane as I realise just how tired I am. Random thoughts go in and out of my head, like long would it take to drive from Miami to Monterrey?

Later on in the flight...

There is not a lot of haze - or higher cloud  - and I keep having random and senseless thoughts that I hear in a split second and the immediately forget.

The light is fading slightly. I can't work out if we've started our descent.

"I'm going all out for an inflatable dinghy," I hear myself think (or say) to myself. Why? Tiredness is at play. And then I try to sleep, this time resting my head against the window while rather fancying myself as Doctor Heywood Floyd from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Any minute now the female member of the cabin crew will walk slowly towards me in a stilted fashion as if she's in a zero-gravity situation in order to retrieve a biro pen that has floated off. Or perhaps not.

The captain announces that there's 25 minutes until we land. The weather in Monterrey is 68 degrees and blue skies with light cloud. For me, it's 1225am and I need to hit the sack. The 'fasten seatbelts' sign is on and we've definitely started our descent so I'll have to stop writing soon. The curtain separating us from first class has been drawn back.

I reckon it'll be around 0230hrs by my body clock (if not later) before I reach my hotel room.

Outside I can see the twinkling lights of the city below. The cabin lights have been switched on, the cabin crew are wandering around collecting the trash in a black plastic bag and suddenly it's dark outside and then, in a split second, the city lights close-up, cars, street lights, the usual stuff. The undercarriage comes down and for some reason I think of my mum. Mum has never flown in a plane and has no intention of doing so.

The flight attendant has given me the name of a restaurant - Fonda El Limoncito - and has told me to ask for Juan Pablo and mention that Mike the Flight Attendant has recommended his fine establishment.  Perhaps I will. The address is Calle Guillermo Prieto, Ote 938, Monterrey.

And then we land and I spot a full moon in the night sky.