Untie me, I've said no vow; the train is getting way too loud

Sunday, 19 October 2008
10:17 a.m. OR 5:17 p.m., depending on which of my clocks one consults

So far, the journey is long and a bit disorienting. Our flight left a bit late but arrived on time (a mystery that someone will need to one day explain to me). I originally had three seats to sleep, but someone moved into the third spot and thus my sleep was truncated by frequent need to shift position every time my head fell forward. I’m thankful now that I spent a good hour napping yesterday afternoon. Watched Iron Man over and over. I love this film, and since when is Robert Downey, Jr. hot?

I tried to spend some time eavesdropping, as usual, but only heard a single word in the din of conversation: “saturated” which is indeed an odd word to hear both in and out of context. It doesn’t sound like it looks, with the emphasis on the “tch” sound in the middle there. I’m getting loopier, I think.

At first it appeared that my luggage had been lost, and this was dismaying, but I can tell I’m on vacation because it didn’t immediately fire up my rage instinct as this would have done in Denver. Odd. It was quickly located, gods be praised, and we hit the Tube to King’s Cross, and giggled the entire way every time the train voice announced that we were on a train headed for “Cockfosters” (it’s one of those immature moments like “duty free” when it’s hard not to giggle at “doodie”- I’m glad Sarah thinks this its similarly funny or I’d just feel stupid). So somewhere near Kensington two girls get on the train and sit opposite us; they are clearly American from their outfits and then when they begin speaking, we realize that they are from DU. Oy. I thought I’d be further from home by now. Fake tans, over-white teeth, matching fashion, and a compelling discussion about the blond’s Louis Vuitton bag were our bane for the next several Tube stops. Sarah and I have vowed to not talk about DU – dissertations and people there are in-bounds, but politics and griping are not. How lovely.

Got to KC, got tickets, drinks of water, and then pretty much straight on the train, from whence I currently write this. The countryside is beautiful, and it’s easy to see how Harry Potter could only happen here. I can feel it when I get off the plane, and when I see the rows of suburban homes I can only think about Number Four Privet Drive and the owls arriving there. I do rather wish Sarah was here with me (she’s in another car), but the solitude works just as well. It’s great to be far from home, anonymous, and even invisible. No students here. No colleagues. No pompous fellow grad students. Despite my exhaustion, I feel like writing a whole novel right now. And if my battery on the laptop would last or I had the faintest idea where the adapter for my cord was so I could plug in, I’d be at it right now.

Smells are funny things to me. As soon as I stepped off the plane, I remembered instantly the smell of London and I missed it, the same way I missed it before I knew it when I was here a year ago. Just try to tell me that our souls aren’t recycled… Anyway, someone on the train in my vicinity is wearing CK One and this too takes me back in interesting ways – I used to wear it myself at a time in my life when things were tumultuous and that is odd, but the way it’s mixed with a slight smell of alcohol breath is comforting to me. It reminds me of Jamison and I simply adore his scent, which is a keen mixture of his natural scent, deodorant, and alcohol breath (only occasionally on the latter, of course). The smell reminds me of home and it’s nice. That’s all. Just nice.

It’s getting dark and soon I won’t be able to see much out the window, I suppose, but the train ride is still pleasant. I do wonder, however, why my Blogger and Facebook come up in a foreign language in an English-speaking country. I don’t recognize the language, either, but I find it amusing that the default is something akin to Swedish.