While everyone celebrated at the hotel last night (with everyone ELSE in Ireland... apparently no one could located their fellow marathoners) I watched "Nip/ Tuck" and "Cold Case." Three hours later I was in the shower and shortly after that my belongings were in the lobby.
We loaded onto the bus and drove to the Dublin airport - which is insane. There was a small glitch with our names, but they took care of it quickly. We had another, what would look to be disgusted yet very filling breakfast then made it to the plane.
Two hours later we were in London - or as I like to refer to it as "Mr Toad's Wild Ride."
The first part of the exit from the plane is a blur because I didn't have coffee in me - I know passports were shown and I was asked if my bags were in my sight the entire time (I assume, "except for the time I went to the bathroom and asked someone to watch them" is inappropriate, so I smiled and said yes.)
After a bus ride, a hike and stairs, we found our way into the Heathrow mall at the airport. Our gate wasn't posted yet. But then - I saw it. (I'm getting tears writing about it).
I did hear angels first. I grabbed Michael's arm, to make sure I wasn't imagining it - right there in the center. I could recognize the green and white "UCKS COFFEE" from a mile away (The STARBU was covered up by monitors, duh. The don't call it UCKS in England).
"Do you see it?" I whispered.
I left the group and got my first venti houseblend in four days. And I got the all important LONDON city mug that I collect.
My trip, was complete. I would have paid twenty bucks. Instead I paid something in pounds.
I also bought the James Blunt CD I was planning on buying today (in Dublin, when I thought I actually had time) and the BBC series on DVD "Extras" - about a man who is an extra. Irony. Yes.
The thing about Heathrow... they are nice enough to tell you how long it will take you to walk to your gate. Assuming of course, that you will walk this distance if you are a normal, healthy human.
However, when our gate was finally published... it was a 25 minute walk. And for a group of people who would rather do anything in the world at that moment than WALK -I kept thinking, "I was IN "Dawn of the Dead" and I'm more like a zombie now than anyone else in that movie."
My legs are grotesque. (Did I tell about the nipple story? I don't think I did.)
Male runners (I can't vouch for women runners) tape their nipples with bandaids so their nipples do not bleed. It happened to me once, I learned my lesson. There is nothing sexy about having to finish a ten mile run wearing a white tank top with two gushing nipples.
Remember when I said after finishing a marathon, you lose track of reality? When I finally got undressed and stood in the shower yesterday I screamed when I caught a look at myself in the mirror. My nipples were GONE! I thought they had fallen off in the run... then realized, I covered them with band-aids and felt stupid that I thought my nipples had fallen off... but THAT goes to show you how stupid you can get after a marathon.)
Back to my legs...they look like someone has taken a whip and beat me and my ankles look like something that would be rushed into an emergency room. They are sore. Sore isn't a really good description. Imagine your legs just locking down. Where they laugh at you and say "haha! Just TRY and move! I DARE YOU!"
Somehow we made it to the gate and onto the plane, where our movie choices for the next 12 hours were "Dark Water" and "Bewitched." (And where I ate more chocolate and butter cookies in one sitting than in my entire life. Gone are the days of peanuts apparently). It was as if my legs had phoned ahead to the airline and put in a special request to torture me more.
Natch, I'm in the middle. So 6'2" of me is poured into the seat. At one point the man in front of me spilled something. My foot was soaking wet. (I had taken off my shoes). I pulled my leg out and saw it covered in yellow and prayed very hard that he had spilled orange juice and had not in fact loss control of his bladder. But he and his wife were looking awfully shifty as they tried to clean up his seat. Remembering I had left my shoes under the seat as well, I managed to kick one out and sure enough, it was soaked as well with yellow. At this point, you ask yourself.... "do I sniff it and know once in for all, or do I try to tell myself that my foot is in fact not covered in urine."
I opted for telling myself it was orange juice.
"Dark Water." It's a movie about a really bad water leak. Jennifer Connelley put up with way too much crap in that movie. I call the land lord when I see mice. She's got this enormous water problem above her child and just lets it go. I kept hoping she would bite it in the end. I got my wish. And the movie still sucked.
"Bewitched" was actually much better the second time around. I still think Nicole Kidman should have turned it down. Someone else should have been cast and the movie would have been fine. I've just lost my respect for all things Kidman after "Stepford Wives." And that line about "as long as you show up on a golf cart, all is forgiven" still makes me laugh. Unless you've actually been there to see it happen - to see an actor ride up and know that "oh thank God they're back..." it's not that funny. I'm sure anyone who worked as crew on "Desperate Housewives" was rolling down the aisle.
I was screamed at for being out of my seat when the seatbelt light was on. I was thisclose to telling her that if I should be in a situation in which I NEED a seatbelt, we are all screwed as we are 30,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean. Besides, the way I was wedged in that seat, had the plane crashed and ala "Lost" I wound up on the island alive in my cabin, I would need Matthew Fox the rest of the cast to pull me out of the seat.
Come to think about it... maybe that's the twist for Season 3 of "Lost!" Maybe there is an entire basketball team in coach that no one checked on, but they managed to survive on butter cookies and chocolate. They are all stuck with their legs under the seat in front of them!
The ONLY muscles below my waist in no pain whatsoever - like they had been asleep for the entire marathon - were the muscles that I use in yoga to extend my legs above my head. Seriously, I could have done (and did) leg extensions above my head for 12 hours. I'm sure it looked odd to see these random legs touching the ceiling behind me, but it was the only thing I could do to keep my legs from snapping off at the joints.
I dozed off every once in a while. When we finally landed at LAX I couldn't wait to get off the plane. And customs was very quick.
SO I'm home now. My legs are killing me. I went to Burger King and had a Whopper with Cheese. Something I would normally never ingest, but I was hungry and my legs demanded it.
I'm planning on catching up on my e-mail tomorrow. And just taking a day or two to decompress.
You know, before I start my life as a writer.
-C
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