A long and weary travel

With everything packed, all necks hugged numerous times, and even some tears, Dad, my little brother Matthias and I head for the airport in Houston. This summer's heat has been terrible and I grow ever thankful for the moderately chilly weather waiting to greet me in Cape Town. As I walk through security, Dad stands there and watches me go through. This has been a tradition of ours ever since my first rugby trips when I was trying out as  Junior Eagle. The reasoning behind such close surveillance? No matter how old I get, I am still his son and he will always watch over me. What was once kind of embarassing, has now turned into a large amount of respect for a man who will do what it takes for his children. I'm through security, but Dad has lost sight of me. Trusting in my unfailing sense of direction, Dad assumes I've gone through safely and I am off to the gate. The gate is easy enough to find, now just to settle in and wait. We board, take off, and bump our way into London. Sleep was pretty hard to come by due the small size of the seats and the not so small size of me. Land in Jolly Ole, and realize that Heathrow is about 3 times the size of Houston's airport, IAH. After trundling along with the crowd, I try and see what terminal my connecting flight is in. I thouhgt it was through Iberia which was in a completely different terminal. After looking like a lost dog, I humble my ego and decide to ask for some direction. I'm glad I did, because I found out I was in the wrong terminal. Another 5 minute bus ride later, I'm back where I'm supposed to be. I had an 8 hour layover in London and really wanted to see some sights in that time. After realizing how poorly I knew my way around, I decided it wasn't worth the risk of going out into a brand new city to try and see some buildings....maybe on my return home. I wait, walk around, wait some more, do even more waiting, and then finally the gate listing is posted. No matter how nice an airport may look or be well equipped, you will still look like cattle moving through line after line, passport check after passport check. Meander to the gate, wait around, and as the boarding is about to begin, intercom pops on with a sad announcement. Mechanical failures have lead to a change in plane, and weirdly, a change in staff(someone must not have had their wheaties this morning). More being herded to the new gate, more waiting, then finally time to board. It's an 11 hour flight and there is a Frenchman in front of me who does not seem to know the meaning of personal space. That's all for right now. If I am lucid enough to tpe when I land, then I shall update this page.

My elder cousin has a blog going and she has a cool sign off. I'm going to try and figure one out, but suggestions are always welcome.

Josh