"I have never seen this phone before in my life."

I bought a SIM card today.

It was expensive.

The plan for unlimited calls, texts and web is pay month by month, but I'm paying about $70. That works out to about £45. That includes tax and what have you and considering that it's a short term plan, but still it hurt to pay. I might look around for better plans, safe in the knowledge that a month from now I could be free from T-Mobile.

Anyway, the SIM itself cost $19.99 plus taxes and really I was expecting to take a hit on that. No such thing as a free lunch blah blah blah.



Speaking of lunch, I evidently went to Wendy's. That bad boy up there is a double Baconator with 'medium' fries and a 'medium' Coke. That fucker can hold a small child, that's how large it is. Larger than a large at McDonald's back home.

The burger was awful. It did not taste nice. No sir. Lesson: avoid Wendy's. For $8.10 (£5) I can't complain. The vast quantity of it makes up for quality. If I had eaten, that is.

You see, I was so fucking hungry that I couldn't eat. If that makes sense. So when I attempted to gorge, it just didn't work. I don't think I could comfortably finish a whole combo. Maybe after a bit of practice, but I really don't want to practice.

Anyway, more fun soon.

Banking and yawing

So, in Houston. It took a while to get from the gate to the baggage claim area, and on the way I spotted a McDonald's. I'd like to say I spent my first dollar in there, but I really couldn't be fucked. Leaving the building itself and getting into the outside was a shock to the senses. The heat just hits you. And the moisture. Holy shit.

Anyway, I jumped in a taxi and spoke to the driver. He was a proper nice bloke and drove like the fucking clappers. Eugh, I hate that term. Anyway, pulls up to the hotel at around 6:40-6:50, paid the driver and get out. Yep, the heat. I check into the hotel, get my keycard, find my room (eventually), lock the door and just get as much as I can off me. I mean stark naked.

I turn on the TV, turn on my mobile and get 10 or so messages. Great, that'll cost. After checking my emails (getting connected to the wi-fi was too much of a hassle) and sending an email to mumsy (and updating Facebook) I watched an episode of the Daily Show and Colbert on the netbook. For the first time I didn't need to use a proxy. It felt good. What felt bad, however, was the lack of Comedy Central on the cable. Bastards.

I doubt I would've stayed awake that long, in all honesty. The last time I checked my watch it was about 8pm. The next time I did it was 3:43am.

That's pretty much it. I haven't eaten in ages, and I am hungry, but I think I've missed the free breakfast. There's a restaurant across the way, so I might pay that a visit. There is practically no one in the hotel. I have a feeling I am nearly the only guest. Bang goes my fleeting dream of flirting by the pool. Not that I have any trunks.

I have a shit ton of things to do. I need to get a SIM card, I need a laptop, I need to eat. I need to check my money. I need to nap. I need to stop sweating.

In Houston.

These titles are really not indicative of what's inside.

Bahaha, I'm watching Fox News to get used to idiocy. I can't believe it. So awful. Oh hai Karl Rove! Actually, I'm getting pretty pissed off at this shit. Fuck, I need to turn over.

Anyway, in Detroit the plane taxied in preparation to take off and then... Just sat on the tarmac for 40 minutes. Because of the route. I don't understand what that means, but I know we weren't going anywhere.

I was sat by the window and next to me was an elderly Hispanic lady who was on her way to visit her daughter.

Snoop's favourite chore is cooking. I bet he makes a mean bolognaise. He does look blind in those shades...

Anyway, she was a very genial, polite, friendly and sweet woman to talk to. She took a great interest in what I was doing and gave me nuggets of advice, and kept offering me food. I had a tootsie pop. Intriguing.

The flight, cos it was delayed because of 'the route' took about three hours. I think I fell asleep but I can't be sure 'cos there was no way of telling how much time had passed. Well, there was my watch, but I hadn't looked at that in ages and my phone was off. So, maybe I caught of few minutes, but I still felt shit when I got off the plane.

Snoop is making an album with Susan Boyle? Wut.

Up in the Air

Heathrow to Detroit was an alright flight. It was delayed for 40 or so minutes due to whatever the fuck, but whatever. I was sat next to what looked like a 12 year American-Indian girl. She had no luggage, save for a backpack and a violin case. I'm guessing she's a prodigy. I dunno. She was quite all the way through the flight so that was a bonus. She was completely on her own, though. Fair play to her making it such a journey and then back again on her own. I couldn't have done that when I was her age.

On the other side of the aisle was another American girl. She was about the same age as the other, probably younger, but was with her father and brother. They were Mexican-Americans and on their way to Houston too. She kept telling me stuff. Not making conversation, just telling me where she had been, what she had done, why she had been there, who she I DON'T GIVE A FUCK JUST STOP TALKING TO ME OH JESUS HURRY UP AND WATCH A MOVIE.

Entertainment wise, Delta had a nice selection of movies, music and TV. I watched THE best episode of Mad Men – Guy Walks Into An Advertising Agency. As soon as I saw the season number and episode number I knew I had to watch it. An awesome start to the flight. After that I watched Date Night. Meh. Then I played Pokemon for a while, got bored of that and then had chicken and yellow rice shoved in my face. Badass.

I grew restless and listened to some of the tracks on the flight jukebox thing. Plastic Beach, Battle Studies, The Resistance, Broken Bells, Tonight: Franz Ferdinand, Slash, etc. Great tunes to be had, that's for sure. I didn't fall asleep, so much as I let my eyes rest. I couldn't quite sleep and I don't know why. Anyway, after that I watched Kick Ass. I was a bit wary of it since I'd heard mixed reviews from friends, but actually it was a very enjoyable flick. There were bits that have been overhyped, but all-in-all, it was pretty sweet.

All that chewed up about 6 hours. With about 2 hours to go, more food was shoved in front of me and then ----

Sorry, Snoop Dogg is on the View. Fo' shizzle!

Holy shit, Snoop's kid has lupus?! It's NEVER lupus, dammit!

Anyway, yeah, two hours to go and I really just sat and let the flight end. I rested my eyes some more – sleep was still elusive – and watched the plane on the map get closer to Detroit.

We landed later than expected, causing me to panic I'd miss my connection. It took fucking ages for people to get off the plane and when I finally stepped off it I was instantly hit with the heat. I dunno whether it just felt hot because I'd been in a cold tube for 9 hours or whether it actually it was hotter than the UK. Probably the latter.

Rushing from the gate to the border control took ages. The line took ages to process, though I got through without much hassle. Security into the airport proper was also pretty quick, but long enough to have a decent chat with a middle aged couple ahead of me. They had been to Wiltshire and insisted that I would need to have my shoes sprayed because I 'live on a farm'. Um... No.

From the security post to the actual gate I seriously had to rush, rush, rush. I dunno the distance but it was a proper sesh to my gate. I got on the plane with about 5 minutes to spare.

Aztec Camera in my head for days on end.

I've just had a shave, a shower, cleaned my teeth and changed into new clothes. In Houston. That's a weird sentence to type. In Houston.

It's the morning after my journey, about 9am, and I am physically tired. I can almost taste the atrophied muscles, but one must fight on to bring you glad tidings of aforementioned journey. It would appear that people back have sent me well-wishes (is that a phrase?) since my inbox is far too heavily stuffed to be the normal bacn and spam.

It's probably going to be a long post, but I might give each leg of the journey its own post, just to space things out and not bore anyone. Huzzah.

We (mother, father and I) left Plymouth at around 11am on Wednesday. The drive up to Heathrow was pretty uneventful. We stopped at a few rest stations to catch our breath. I kept my head down playing Pokemon and listening to music. Wonderfully, my Zen decided that it would freeze on me, and when that happens I have to wait for the fucker to run out of battery. But because I'm not an idiot I made sure it was fully charged. So, no MP3 to use. Fucking great. Luckily my phone has some music on, but not as wide or current as I would like. It provided a relief.

I couldn't tell you what time we actually pulled into the car park of the Travelodge, but I'd hazard a guess and say it was about 4:30. Dad, being dad, wanted to drive a dry run to Terminal 4 so he knew the timings and such. Dad, being dad went the wrong way and nearly drove into a runway. I am not kidding.

The Travelodge was your bog-standard affair, so there's nothing to talk about there. We went for a drink in the bar, and then for a walk around the immediate area. Dad's glasses nearly lost a screw and thankfully a shop owner fixed that problem. After that we stayed in a pub for the rest of the evening drinking, watching the planes come in, and getting fed. It was a nice – and typically Williams – way of saying what needed to be said. You know, 'Bye' and shit.

We turned in around 10:30. Dad fell asleep almost immediately which meant no one else could. I had about 5 minutes of sleep that night. I wasn't happy with that.

'Getting up' at 4:45 and spending roughly 45 minutes packing bags and making sure the room was clear, was an interesting experience considering I was a shuffling idiot, desperate for sleep. Nevertheless, we parked and got into Terminal 4 by about 5:45-6. It was a very short wait at check-in and nary a problem to be had. There were plenty of children, however. Great.

With my boarding card in hand and my bag on its way to the plane, there was not much to do but wait. A cup of tea and a chat later I was on my way to security. There was the inevitable tears on their part, but I can honestly say that I had no real feeling that I would cry. I knew I would miss them – I DO miss them – but the overriding wish was just to get on the plane and get it started.

Security was a piece of piss, not at all like the hassle I was anticipating. I got into to the departure lounge at around 7, maybe earlier. Though I did beat the morass of travellers wanting to check-in and then bundle through security, 2 hours to wait is not a pleasant experience. There's only so many duty-free items you can look. Boarding rolled round soon enough and I was on the plane at like 8:45. The bitch of it was that my phone would have to be switched off, so bye the fuck bye to music.

Romantic notions

I leave for London today. Which can only mean that tomorrow is the flight. To Houston.

That's a bit soon, isn't it?

I don't want to say it's crept up on me, but I haven't been counting down the days, nor kept in a pin in the calendar. I just let it come to me. Which is typical of me, really.

In my mind I did have these - in hindsight, pretty dumb - ideas of what the flight would be like. I even semi-planned a planned a suitable playlist of tunes that would take me into the new world. But then I realised I'll be stuck near a kid or a morbidly obese lady who breathes heavily, sweats profusely and demands extra legroom. Well fuck her, that's no romantic notion.

So, instead I have merely packed as much entertainment as I can cram into a carry-on bag and hope that my DS isn't labelled a security risk.

And through all this I'm not excited. Not nervous. Not scared. I'll miss people and that's what it comes down to. But in their place will come vague imitations of the personalities that keep me sane and happy. And that should be enough. And if it's not then I'll just cram as much junk food in my face.

I'll probably write something tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe on the flight.