You can't get there from here (part 2)...

And now the exciting continuation of the expedition to Gatwick Airport (much like previous epic journeys such as the Kon-Tiki expedition, Hilary's climb of Everest, and navigating a Walmart on a Saturday morning)...

When I left off, Ryan was just getting his first dose of the Henneman travel mojo. This rare condition afflicts my mother's side of the family. It does, however, come with the bonus of always finding a parking spot in the front row near the door and generally being right about everything all the time.

At any rate...The train from Brentwood went as far as Stratford (I think...It was awfully early). We took the Underground, ran across some station, hit the Gatwick Express, took a kayak, rode a camel, traveled back in time, and finally arrived at Gatwick Airport. Funny side note...Ryan really is the whitest fast man alive. Even carrying both suitcases (one of which weighed something like 60 pounds...hmmm, I wonder who that belonged to) he had me running to keep up.

Now the real fun begins. Apparently the fine people at Gatwick Airport have some trouble figuring out the basic art of communication. In that, when one person tells you to go to this line, three more tell you you're in the wrong one. It's a very good time, especially when Ryan wakes you up at 4:30. They did however (eventually) manage to seat us together, so I can't complain too loudly.

Some of you may recall the earlier story of the 18 miles I walked to get from the plane to the terminal when I arrived in England. Apparently, the same is true in the opposite direction. After another 18 mile long trek and a Starbucks kiosk manned by one lone (and flustered) employee, we reached the right gate. Of course, we were searched again, because I look incredibly dangerous. Finally, some 6 or so hours later we were on our way.

Of course, I could detail the 8 hour plane ride, but I'd like to keep our readership high...so I will refrain from describing in great detail the 3 or 4 episodes of CSI I watched or the absolutely fantastic chicken-like sandwich we were served.

Up next in the epic tale of our perilous journey...we will answer the questions that have plagued mankind through the ages:

Why is Newark, New Jersey so incredibly fabulous?

Why would anybody accept luggage from a stranger?

Why can't Ryan get a smaller Sam Adams?

Why is it my bag that gets lost on its way to Pittsburgh?

Why don't I have any American money?

Why does Papa John's pizza taste so great at 9:30 at night?