Jump across the Puddle

My trip to the US in July was my first out of Europe, and my longest flight by a long way. Perhaps understandably I was a little nervous, but it had nothing to do with the 11 hours I would spend in planes, or the transfer I would have to make, or the 4 hours I would have to spend in airports or even the fact that I was crossing the world's second largest open expanse of water where if we pitched down in the middle of it, it would be like a kid trying to jump across a puddle in newspaper wellingtons. It was more about going to the country that bears the brunt of a lot of my jokes and being surrounded for three weeks by the people who I uncompromisingly ridicule. It was going to be a fun trip anyway...

I left the house at 0600 on Monday 7 July to get to Brussels International in time to catch a 0800 city hopper up to Amsterdam Schiphol airport. Bleary eyed and hair like a mop, I just about managed to clear security - my brother had managed to set off a security alert because his name was a security risk flying to the US, and therefore needed checking. Brilliant, just what you want early in the morning with no tea inside of you... Made it to Schiphol without incident though (although that plane flight has to be the most pointless one in the history of aviation, apart from maybe Glen Miller's flight from London to Paris...) We spent more time on the tarmac at either end than we did in the air. Finally managed to make it on to the plane at Schiphol - we had a Dutch immigration check, and then pre-flight security. Fun!!

It was really quite amazing to be on a plane that had more floors than my house, 100 times as many people as were in my family and 1000 times the journey capacity my car has. I quite enjoyed the flight - and it has to be said, it felt nothing like 10 hours. I napped and watched films and ate and drank. There was no one with a sneeze near me, or anyone with any other annoying habits. Altogether quite enjoyable.

I rushed off the plane at the other end to try and beat the queues to immigration - and failed, naturally. But I did move through immigration quite quickly, which was a blessing. Through in to San Francisco airport and out into... the heat!! My God it was hot!! It was so hot I reeled back unintentionally, nearly fell over an 80-year old, instead falling over in to the outsretched arms of the window. Which I bounced off like a tennis ball on a racket. Onto the floor. Good start.

Made it to downtown SF where I quickly settled in to the hotel, and then went for a "quick" orienteering walk. It was about 1600 by this point, but my mind was quietly shouting "SLEEP YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT. I'M TIRED, GO TO BED" over and over. When I finally did crash in to bed that night, I can honestly say I blacked out more thoroughly than a pot of black paint could black out a white wall.