If I never see another airport again, it will be too soon.

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Well, we arrived... after a two hour delay in Calgary while they fixed our plane (!) which of course meant we missed our Belfast connection and got stuck in Heathrow for five hours. On the bright side, I was seated next to a guy named who made me laugh my head off the whole trip. Rosie slumbered peacefully across the aisle, wearing those eyemasks that fragile movie stars wear.

Being stranded in an airport with fellow weary travelers is a great way to meet people and hear about where their journey is taking them. Rosie and I are going to have to make something up to outdo the people who are going to Kenya to plan a humanitarian conference... or to the Middle East to pedal oilfield equipment to filthy rich shieks. Our plans to drink a pint of Guinness in a real Irish tavern kind of pales by comparison.

We landed in the dark in Belfast and took a cab to an ancient part of town with cobbled streets and old brick houses, where we found our hostel--full of delightful and gorgeous young people. My kids would love it here... I'll have to do something to convince them that we're not here to chaperone.

Right now, we're going to head out to join the crowds that are starting to gather on the street outside, lining up for one of the many nightclubs. We'll grab a fish supper (trans fats be damned) and do our best to slip in unnoticed. We fit right in, kind of, except for the sensible shoes on our swollen feet.

Nice. Let the games begin!

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Photos

Off we go
On the tarmac at Calgary airport, already 2 hours behind schedule.