Friday, June 22nd

When I last left you, we were waiting to land in Paris. That went smoothly, although the pressure changes woke the babies and they lost their minds...again. I made it through the French security check, and had about twenty minutes to chill out before boarding my third plane. Of my flights, this plane ranked second in size, but last in seat space. I took a 30 minute nap leaning against the window, and was awakened to an Air France breakfast, which included a piece of bread with cheese and serrano ham, yogurt (bleh), a biscuit that I dropped on the floor, never to be seen again, and a box of two chocolates.


Landing at London Heathrow, we were directed to customs. Now, these were lines. Easily 1,000 people, and a 2 hour wait with a woman who was into show dogs! (I apologize now to anyone I ever bored with my juggling talk.). When it was my turn I thoroughly confused the customs agent. I said I was there to study, but not at a school. Then I tried to explain L'Arche, but that did not help make things any more clear. After finally answering all of her questions I started on my way, only to be pulled aside by the custom agent's manager, who was standing over her shoulder and listened to our entire exchange. He asked me a lot of the same questions, then got to the point...What was with my beard? He was confused by the fact that I had such an epic beard with no religious explanation.

After gathering my luggage I set out on my first ever subway, or tube, shall I say, expedition. It went smoothly, but made me wish I had packed less after carrying all of my luggage up and down steps. Finally, I popped out at Pimlico station. This left only a 0.5 mile walk to my hotel, but with my luggage and lack of sleep, it may as well have been 5 miles. Doubletree was nice enough to let me check in early, and I was grateful. I set down my stuff, and called my loving wife. I was so exhausted all I wanted to do was cry. I turned the thermostat to cold, kicked off my shoes, and took a four hour nap without ever getting under the blankets. Did I mention that I had been sweating for nearly 18 hours.


I woke up around 4:00pm, fueled by my desire for fish & chips. I did some research, and set about my way. A walk that should have taken fifteen minutes turned into an hour with some wrong turns and no map. When I reached The Laughing Halibut, it was closed. I settled on a pub that was just down the road, determined to walk no further. Walking into The Old Monk I saw exactly what I was hoping for, soccer and a menu featuring fish & chips. I got myself a pint, because I thought it was appropriate to the setting, and didn't want to get in a brawl with some hooligans over not getting a pint of something. The fish was good, although I was thrown off by the fact that it still had the skin on. The chips were spot on, but the mushy peas left a bit to be desired, although I ate them in honor of my dear Katie Jo.

After my meal I walked back to the hotel, face timed Rachael, and fell asleep watching and trying to understand England's national sport, cricket.


Oh, one more thing. On my walk back to the hotel I found this really neat sculpture of a Paralympics discus athlete.