Oh The Joys of Flying

No sleep last night, well with a 6am flight from Newcastle, and thanks to all of the cowardly pointless terrorists around, I had to be at the airport at 4.30am. So had to leave home at 3am, drive up the A19, negotiate an eerily quiet Tyne Tunnel, park my car and wait for the pre-booked taxi. First senior moment of the trip when I nearly left my case in the car. Thank goodness for the wide awake, cheerfully chatty, drum and base loving, 'Toon' fanatic from Walker, driving the Taxi. Not. "Where yu gan then?" New York my good man. "Ee a wadn't gan there lyke, yu cud get mordad or mugged hinny. Yu betta gan canny, divint dee nowt daft lyke. An yu betta not gan tu that park, wad du thu caal it? Oh I, Sintral Park." Temping to tell my driver that I was indeed going to central park to play croquet, but somehow I felt the next conversation would be a bit taxing given the time of day, so I said I would be careful and heed his advice.

Arrived at airport, checked in, endured security palava - empty pockets, remove belt, take off sandals, remove camera from case, walk through the barrier - red flashing lights. Walk back through, remove bracelet and watch, more red flashing lights - getting worried now - if I hear the thwack of rubber gloves I'm going to Blackpool instead. Oops, forgot car keys - phew!

Flight to Heathrow predictably boring. Coffee - well that's what they said it was, well let's just say it was just as described on the cup, 'BA', - bloody awful.

Terminal 5, like it, reminded me of Ikea without the furniture. Perhaps I shouldn't say anything more, will wait and see if my bag turns up in New York same time as me.

Heathrow to Newark: torture - sitting still for 7.5 hours, oh so not comfortable or anything good.

I leave the plane find the baggage carousel and to my amazement, my bag appears, with handle and zip intact.

Customs officer very stern and grumpy, not happy when I get my left and right hands mixed up on his finger printing machine. One click by the wrong person now and I'm heading to the FBI' most wanted'. Not sure I like my details and fingerprints and photo held by the gun toting locals, but it's not like good old blighty, where at least you could argue about it. They did search my bag, big alarm went off as it was x-rayed, and yes I did have to explain the croquet mallet. Going to Blackpool next year if Barack doesn't sort out his jobsworth officials. Still the police woman at the airport was nice and showed me where the bus stop was.

So have arrived safely in 'Madhattan' and ready to start the adventure propa tomorrow. It's about 10 degrees warmer here than at home and more humid, and given that I will be dehydrated from the flight, I shall endeavour to top up my liquid levels to the best of my ability.