1) I slept restlessly in my hotel room, and was up earlier than I expected — but did I expect to be up earlier than I expected? I showered, dressed, and went down to my last breakfast. I didn’t write morning pages this morning not just because of travel anxiety, but because I had already packed my notebook.
2) At the table next to mine sat a friendly man who had checked in the night before, and we had a very friendly conversation about London and writing and the weather and travel, and that was a very nice thing to have happen.
3) I wrestled all my bags down in the tiny elevator, and as I was checking out in the lobby, through the window I recognized the man who absolutely had to be my driver. I pointed to him with a knowing look and he smiled. After a couple trips — I didn’t dare negotiate those steep stairs with all my bags at once — I was on my way to Heathrow. The drive passed without incident, and I was relieved to see how good the weather was.
4) Things were a teensy bit complicated at Heathrow — it would be tedious to go into it all — but when I was allowed into the line (not more than three hours before takeoff), it took only ten minutes to get to the counter. And during the security screening my valise was targeted for extra screening because of some jars of honey I picked up for the neighbors in the palace shop. Liquids, you know.
5) With some difficulty I found a seat inside the crowded terminal. The siren call of duty-free fell on deaf ears. I read until my gate was announced one hour before and I maneuvered my way there. All the boarding was handling very efficiently.
6) On board, returning to my seat from the lavatory, I accidentally sat down in the row behind my seat. Someone kindly pointed it out and I made embarrassed apologies as I moved forward to my correct seat. And when I sat down, I became aware of ferocious, eye-watering body odor. I don’t know if it was the people sitting next to me (who arrived while I was in the restroom) or the people now sitting behind me, but that was a constant presence for the next seven hours.
6a) And then whoosh, we’re off! Farewell, London! Farewell, Europe! I hope to be back again soon.
6b) Generally I don’t pay attention to a flight’s entertainment package, but this time I did. Before arriving in Boston I saw Conclave (amazing all around, and important movie for our time), a documentary about Liza Minnelli, and the original Blade Runner with Harrison Ford’s film-noir voiceover and a slightly expanded ending — not the director’s cut with the unicorn. And I enjoyed it all.
6c) We landed smoothly, and then had the usual wait to disembark. The line at Customs moved steadily. The agent, a friendly woman, surprised me by asking if I had more than $1,000 cash on me. And then it was off to baggage claim.
7) The heat hit me as I stepped outside, and I steered my roller bags through the other travelers to the taxi stand. En route through the familiar tunnels and streets (I always tell the cabby to take Melnea Cass to Tremont and then Amory Street, so they know I really do know the area) I talked to Craig on the phone.
8) And then I was getting out of the taxi, manhandling my bags up the front stairs, and . . . I was home! It seemed impossible. The air felt warmer and thicker, as it does when a room hasn’t been occupied for a long time. I felt like I was seeing my kitchen floor for the first time. And there were the two big stacks of mail that Daniel had organized for me while I was gone.
9) Thus my summer abroad ended, a summer I hadn’t fully planned when I left. Thanks for following along!