Landing

I sipped my slightly diluted coffee that came as the providence of whatever airline I was now travelling with, and let out a light sigh. What an odd dream, it seemed so real. I guess I’m not in college anymore; apparently I was mile high courtesy of Air France, I thought as a looked down at the napkin underneath my cup. What was I doing here? I looked up and realized the stewardess was handing out customs cards. I received mine and was informed via the Captain’s intercom that we would shortly be landing in London.
Beginning to fill it out, I realized that the card required an address of destination. This raised a new question, where was I going? This didn’t really seem all that important to me, but I knew I didn’t want to be deported so I had to come up with something. “Think, Jack… Think.” I tapped on the pull down tray for a moment as I pondered my options. What did I have on me? I pulled out my wallet. I found several hundred British pound notes, some fifties and a couple of twenties… Why so much cash? I removed the cash, I’d be a sitting duck for a pickpocket I thought, as I separated it and put it in my two front pockets and some in my sock, placing a single fifty back in my wallet.
Okay so my little problem was still not solved, where was I going? I had a drivers license, from Virginia, I pulled it out, hmm, organ donor, interesting, not too useful… bingo! A few business cards behind it, this could be the ticket I needed. What do we have?
The first was my own card, didn’t say what business, just my name, my cell number and the address to an apartment in Alexandria. I must work from home, rings a bell, although I still can’t remember what the heck it is I do, but it’s good to remember where I’m from. I placed that card aside with my license.
What else to we have, a card from a publishing house in London, there was an address and the name of a man, Nick R. Laudman. That’s right I’m a writer, my blogs full of poetry and adventures bumming around the US had been gaining readership and this guy wanted to meet me to discuss some ideas and possibly offer me a contract.
I quickly placed the card adjacent to the customs form and used this gem to fill in the details chuckling to myself; I’m probably supposed to meet with this man when I land. I’m not going to meet with anyone, at least not yet. I think I’ll have a night out, plenty of money to work with, if I was careful I could get on for a few days with absolutely no problems, I’m in London, why not go see what adventure the city had to offer.
I had never been to Europe or the UK, if this was going to be my first time it wasn’t going to be a dry meeting with some bore from a publishing house. I determined not to pick up my luggage, to avoid a potential run in with whoever was supposed to meet me at the airport. Yes, I thought to myself, for some reason I still can’t remember much, but I think I’ll take a couple of days and we will see what the streets of London have to offer while I ponder my purpose here.