Home again, home again

London Travel Blog

 › entry 16 of 16 › view all entries

I woke up with the sun, but that was a bit early as my flight was not until noon. I took a last look around Leicester Square, where I (almost literally) stumbled across the Paul Hogan's hand and footprints. (Crocodile Dundee? Seriously, London?) After that, I stopped at a small resto and had a hearty English breakfast. Which was really gross. Half of it was burnt, half of it was cold, all of it was greasy. If I'd had a hangover, I probably would have been content.

I checked out of the hotel , and then hopped on the tube back to Heathrow. It seemed longer than the last time, as I was filled with a mixture of excitement to be home and melancholy at the adventure being over.

I checked in for my flight, dropped off my bags and went through security... now it was all over but the waiting. Much of said wait was spent in the smoking room for the terminal. It was the tiny little room jam packed with people all of whom were chain-smoking, probably because most were on short layovers in flights that are measuring into the dozens of hours. My time in that room strongly influenced my decision to quit smoking later that year.

We landed late in Ottawa, and the line at Customs was huge. If there was a connecting line, I missed it. The agent at the border was the surliest of all. She, curtly and with great suspicion in her voice, asked me why I had landed in Ottawa and was then flying back to Montreal. (Answer: When you are buying flights with points, your options are limited.)  I finally got let back into the country, where I had to run and collect my bags so that I could rush across to the other side of the airport to dash back through domestic security and scurry to my gate with 3 minutes to spare.

A very short time later (you have 5 minutes to use electronic devices) I was back in Montréal. My father met me at the airport, where I learned that my mother was in the hospital after falling off a horse. She was fine  and just under observation.

After two weeks I was finally home. And after 7 years, I have finally written about it.

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photo by: ulysses