One of the views, via crappy cell phone camera:
Mom got home around two-thirty, so I said good-bye to Seanie and got packed up in Pa's SUV and we drove off to San Francisco International Airport. We arrived there a little after four, and it was shockingly empty. Our footsteps echoed off the walls as we rolled our baggage down empty halls. We were able to get our boarding passes and through security in less than half an hour.
In the airport I spotted a Sephora store, so I took Jeannie's giftcard (she gave it for Christmas and I still hadn't used it) and happily bounced in. It was quite small; perhaps half the size of a normal store. They didn't carry everything but I was able to locate a trio of lipglosses by theBalm. They are lip-plumping and I've been quite keen to try them, because unlike Duwop Venom and other plumping glosses the effect is supposed to be permanant. I mean, I have no lips, so anything that might make them even the teensiest bigger excites me. I also scooped up a trial size Fredrick Fekkai glossing cream, which people keep telling me I should try because my frizzy hair sucks. Unlike the Valley Fair Sephora, this airport location really heaped on the samples - two Cargo foundation samples and two Philosophy 3-in-1 Shower Gels in Strawberry and Raspberry. Yum!
Since the plane was not scheduled to depart until seven-thirty in the evening, and it was only five, Mom and I had plenty of time to kill. She and I split a pizza (Hawaiian, naturally - which I had also had for dinner the night before, come to think of it) and then sat around reading for well over an hour, until they at last began boarding the plane at six-forty-seven p.m.
Even though there was no layover, it was a long long LONG LONG LONG flight. We flew up over Canada and across the Atlantic just below Greenland, then over Scotland and Ireland before landing at Heathrow. During the flight British Airways did everything they could to encourage sleep, except for the most necessary thing - providing a comfortable place to rest! Man, airplane seats are awful. (It's been at least a good five or six years since I last sat in one, so I had forgotten how bad they are.) BA did provide a blanket, pillow, and eyemask to aid your sleep, and they dimmed the lights and told everyone to shut the window shades.
(By the way, even if tomato sauce didn't gross me out on principle, airplane cannoli is positively disgusting.)
On the personal entertainment screen (first time I'd ever had one of those, too) I watched The Incredibles snippets of different Cartoon Network shows. My problem was that I wanted to watch whatever stupid Johnny Bravo snippet (why do I like that show? It's so lame!) they had to offer but never managed to tune in while it was playing, so all I saw was some rancid Ed, Edd and Eddy (is that the name of the show?) thing. I also managed to drift off for a few hours, but man. It is a bitch trying to sleep upright in one of those chairs. Sore back sore back!
When we arrived at Heathrow, we had been on the plane slightly under ten hours and it was two-thirty Friday afternoon. (Somebody somewhere owes me a Friday morning.) It is so surreal to have your days just squished together like that; I couldn't decide if it was two short days or one extraordinarily long one.