The 29 hour Day

I woke moments before the alarm at Horrible o’clock or 5.30 am as it prefers to be called. 30% had stupidly offered to take me up to the airport momentarily forgetting that a 9 o’clock flight has a 7 o’clock check-in and then there is the 40 minute car journey too. It was very kind of her and nice to be seen off by her and TP rather than travel to Birmingham airport on my own.

As I type this I am 1629 miles short of New York and am just off the South West tip of Greenland.

Motive Power will be provided today by Messrs Rolls & Royce - shame they didn't build the cabin too!

The flight has been OK so far – just OK – initially I thought the Gods had smiled upon me as I had a row of three seats to myself but then I was joined at the last minute by a middle-aged Brummie and her aged Mum who were off for 3 weeks in Vegas via NY City. Ah well  - snug it is.

Lunch was served at a peculiar time  - 10 o’clock - and I was surprised that they gave me metal cutlery especially as they had allowed a number of parents with crying infants on board. Bloody good job 30% had reminded me to take some ear plugs as otherwise I would have been met by Police at Newark. I pity those poor buggers that were sat right next to them.

Oh well, I suppose I’d better use the Laptop for the real reason I booted it up ………

…………… where is that documentation I need to familiarise myself with.

The transfer from Newark to Boston went without a hitch although I was sandwiched between two travelers who had decided that oral hygiene was not for them. The only positive thing I can say about the arse-breath traveling companions was that a) they were of normal human proportions rather than US XXXXXL and that b) the flight was only an hour in duration.

I got in to my hotel about 4 o’clock EST and the 29 hour day was starting to hurt. I spoke briefly to 30% and TP and then unpacked …..

……. This is the point I learned an important lesson, in fact, two important lessons. The first is that I am a fuckwit and the second is that the travel power adapter I brought is for Europe rather than the United States – BOLLOCKS.

I am therefore tired and sat in a foreign land watching my communication devices slowly die before my very eyes – Bollocks, Bollocks and, one more time, Bollocks. In a fit of optimism I mosey down to the hotel shop thinking that many travelers must have made the same mistake. This, apparently, is not the case from the array of goods in the aforementioned retail outlet no one except me has ever brought an electrical appliance to the US but forgotten to pack their adapter.

The Concierge suggested that I try Radio Shack in Harvard Square in the morning but his demeanour suggested hope rather than absolute knowledge.