Wow, this morning was horrible. I downed a Gatorade, almost all of which was immediately absorbed by my parched tongue, and we did our final packing (everything in one bag, well done me!), not getting out of the room until about 1. A post office was visited, a Japanese picnic was purchased, and the lotion section of Bath & Body Works was raided (Pat likes to have nice skin, OK?) and we got a cab to Central Park for one last sunbathe. We found a nice spot near the zoo, sat up on a bank and ate our lunches while some Jazz buskers (who knew they existed? They had a drum kit and a double bass!) performed down below. All in all, with the sun, sushi and jazz, it was a pretty perfect day - pity we only had an hour to enjoy it before we had to go back and get our car to the airport. we spent a good 10 minutes finding a cab, but we got back just in time to hop into our rather fancy Lincoln town car. The journey would have been fine if the driver hadn't been an idiot. He took us all round Manhattan, seemingly avoiding the freeways, and we eventually crossed the Williamsburg bridge after half an hour. We then proceeded to drive right through Brooklyn and Queens, not a freeway in sight, going all round the residential zones, so that the journey took us an hour and a half. When I took Clare yesterday, it took half an hour. I think the guy was trying to avoid the tolls to keep the $5 for himself. I said farewell to Pat, promising to see him in London before he goes to Berlin, paid the driver (and added a rubbish tip - he can keep his toll money). Due to my lateness, all the exit seats were gone, so I ended up right at the back in the centre aisle seat, which is crap. I was next to a cute french girl though, which made up for it - until her Dad came up and asked to swap seats as she got nervous flying. consequently, I am now in the exact middle of the plane - no aisle, no window, no nothing. Bollocks. Also, Iberia is the worst airline I have flown with on this trip. I mean, AA were rubbish, but I only used them for little internal flights. This is a trans-atlantic flight, and the only entertainment system is the one screen every four rows type, showing two movies for the whole trip. The staff have not come round once since the appalling meal, and consequently I am incredibly thirsty. They turned all the lights off incredibly early (I suppose Spain is 6 hours ahead, so it makes sense) and I am not in the least bit tired after a 20 minute nap, so I am going to arrive in Barcelona having had no sleep whatsoever. Also I have to change planes in Madrid, and have no phone with which to call Dad to find out what's going on and where he wants me to get the train to. That last bit isn't Iberia's fault, but I feel like blaming them right now anyway.
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I was just overcome with a huge swell of emotion, partly due to the film I just watched - Penelope starring Christina Ricci (and Richard E. Grant, James McAvoy, Simon Wells, Lenny Henry, Reese Witherspoon, Russell Brand and Nick Frost among others), a very sweet tale of a girl cursed with a pig's face. I thought she looked cute with it, but then again I think it's very hard to make her look bad.
So yes, back to the emotion - Pat has been saying over the last few days that he is intrigued to find out what I will end up doing and who I will become etc. I am intrigued too, but in a kind of 'I would like to stand back and watch it unfold' kind of way, rather than facing looming unemployment, skintnesss (the US has ruined me), and general uncertainty. I have been giving it all a lot of thought these last 285 days, but no plans or great desires have presented themselves to my questing mind. This is, understandably, a cause for concern - I have only thought as far ahead as going home for a week or so, then heading up to Field Day with Joynes & co. on the 9th, after which I will be in London on a semi-permanent basis. Quite where I have yet to figure out. Hmm, interesting times...
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