This time tomorrow I’ll be in London. Still not feeling real to me, my head still feels fuzzy about the whole thing. London itself doesn’t feel real to me, in the sense of it being a place I’ve only read about out of a book or seen on TV. It would be just as believable right now if my trip was to Narnia or Oz.
Correction, this time tomorrow I’ll still be in the air, on my way to London. This time tomorrow I should be somewhere over the Atlantic, out of sight of land, moving between the New World and the Old World.
Right now though, I am still packing. Last bits of laundry are going, everything is packed except for the last few bits of clothes and my toothbrush.
My ride in the morning is lined up, though because of some scheduling bits I’ll end up getting to PDX a bit earlier than needed. Which is fine, I haven’t been there in ages, it’ll be nice to spend a moment letting the reality of the trip sink in and take in old familiar sights.
Currency has been gotten. I forget at times how much more interesting the money is in the rest of the world over the look of American money. Different colors, different sizes, and then the flat drab on dollar bill.
I still have to print out my art research, can’t forget that. I still have to clear a lot of clutter off of my tablet to make space for trip photos. Get my tablet and my camera charged so I can make sure to prove they are what they appear to be during the security check. Get the last of the clothes packed. Get some sleep. Get up tomorrow, take a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, head to the airport.
Just does not feel real yet.
Oddly, the one thing my mind has latched on to is that I’ll be flying. And flying means leaving Oregon. And leaving Oregon means that I might be going somewhere that has a Chik-Fil-A. Regardless of their awful politics and social positions, I do miss their chicken. Maybe there will be one during the layover on the way there.