My taxi came at 5:00 a.m. I got to the airport by 5:30 a.m., checked a bag, went through security, and bought a Norwegian hot dog for breakfast.
A woman came over the loudspeaker announcing that my flight was delayed for at least five hours. No apologies offered. I worked on my resume, read a book, and tried to sleep.
At passport control at London Stansted, I stood next to an old man from New Jersey trying to pick up on two girls from New Zealand. They had all been to Sicily. I appreciated his optimism.
At St. Pancras train station, I bought a ticket to Chesterfield, which is about two hours north, and spent some time admiring the station's many seductive organic eateries. I drank local apple juice, and snacked on a whole-grain wrap.
At Chesterfield a taxi took me to the hamlet of Baslow for 20 Quid.
At the Cavendish Hotel, I checked in and went straight to bed. It was lumpy, springy and surprisingly comfortable.
No comments:
Post a Comment