Ok, folks. Enough with the "Stardate" crap. I'm seriously going to England in one week. Less than that, actually. I'll be within walking distance of Buckingham Palace. I'll be able to see the Thames from my hotel window. I'll hear Big Ben chime the hour all day long. Crikey.
At this stage, I no longer know whether all this is a dream or some kind of horribly cruel cosmic joke. Will I arrive at the airport only to hear the raucous laughter of all of the staff, clutching their sides and howling, "You thought you were going to England? What a maroon!" I've actually visualized this scene in a recent dream sequence. The lady at the X-ray machine shakes with huge guffaws as she tears up my boarding pass. All of the other passengers hoot with joy and toss their half-empty Starbucks cups at me as I am unceremoniously escorted out of the terminal by two chuckling security guards. Gosh, I'm neurotic.
But I suppose those are just dreams. I really, really am going to my favorite country in the world. Will I weep? Will I fall to my knees in Heathrow International and sing "God Save the Queen" at the top of my lungs? I don't know. But I know one thing for sure. When Bibb returns (provided that Mrs. Bibb can drug him and drag him to the plane), he'll have a gaggle of photos to share.
1 comment:
It's going to wind up like that episode of Full House where they're supposed to go to Disney Land but the fog keeps their plane from taking off. So Uncle Joey tries to cheer up Stephanie by pretending to be all the famous Disney characters.
Tell the Little Woman to start practicing a British accent.
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