The long way home

Of the 2 foods that I hate the most, they have just become the entree on the first flight on the way home. Why would anybody ever conceive a corn and prawn salad, apart from the rhyming.

But let's go back to the start of today.

Just to remind us that we were going home, the alarm went off at 7am. I had been awake for an hour watching the British Open live in the daytime. God bless America and her favourable time zone in relation to Britain, and in particular Scotland.

As with most days, we headed to breakfast to beat the hordes. We did. No waffles today. The opportunity was there but we were strong. Well, Annette was and I still couldn't figure out the waffle machine. I couldn't even figure out the hot water in the train shower.

Having eaten and packed and admired a Phil Mickelson flop shot, Annette headed to the city and the river. I watched golf until it was time to get one last t-shirt. Showered and fresh as a daisy, I put on a clean shirt and headed out into the blistering heat. Apparently Summer had finally hit Chicago. My new fresh shirt that had to last me for 28 hours was soaked. I showered with 20 minutes to checkout but it didn't take. I had the George Costanza Kung Pow chicken thing going on.

I took my new shirt off the substitute's bench. It only had to make 26 hours. I then had to take all of the luggage to the lobby. Seven items I believe. After this, my shirt was soaked.

I sat and waited and wrote blogs until Annette returned, fresh from an architecture river cruise. 

Annette went and got some lunch and when done, we crammed ourselves in a taxi, having given Vince the doorman a big tip.

Seriously, if you want money from me, just cook me a meal or do something trivial for me over the next week until I erase this habit of giving people money for whom I've already given money. The holiday came in under budget. I should have tried to spend harder.

So the taxi took us to the train station despite the pleading of the driver to take us to the airport. We had $4.50 left on our train ticket. Exact fare. Once at O'Hare airport, you almost do a marathon to get to your terminal. Checked in, but didn't get told they had put us on a different second flight, so our seating request is up in smoke. Got patted down again. Had my bags pulled apart again and boarded a late leaving Cathay Pacific flight again. So here I am, one of two meals down on our 16 hours to Hong Kong. We hit turbulence an hour ago and aren't supposed to get up. How the hell do I get snacks if I can't get up? I highly recommend the movie Get Hard, am about to begin the Hobbitt movie I never watched in case I could see it for free on a flight.

Damn. It's the wrong Hobbitt.

Just completed meal number 2. Who puts corn in chili? Is this some sort of mid-air candid camera? 

I'm not sure which part of my back hurts most. Oh well, only 15ish hours to go. Once the dinner service is complete I can go on my next Toblerone raid. 6.32am Sydney time and I am awake from the dodgy sleep. Still, I think that the Valerian tablets may have helped.

Nothing much to report. At Hong Kong you get your bags inspected going through to your transfer and also onto the plane. Seems that they are looking for people whose hand luggage weighs the same as most people's checked luggage.

I somehow managed to buy some golf clubs on eBay during our transfer. There is no such thing as free wifi.

Of course we found out about trackwork on our line so are in touch with our house sitter about picking us up at the airport. He waited all day yesterday expecting us to be home then.

So let's sum it all up. A pretty amazing holiday. Well planned by the travel consultant/navigator, well budgeted by the budgeter. We escaped the 3 weeks of seemingly horrendous weather in Sydney and are now addicted to sugar and fried foods again. Annette keeps saying she needed more time in New York so I'm guessing that somewhere in the future we will make our way back. Or she will and I will find a golf tour somewhere close by. All that is left is the one more meal on the plane, some duty free something or other for our taxi driver and certain inspection of my bags, just to keep the status quo. Aye carumba! Just calculated that I slept through 28 songs on the list I was listening to. Better than normal.

So with that, does anybody need a sack full of pennies?