Let's just say my holiday has not gotten off to a roaring start. I was up far, far too late getting work done the day before I left, and as I was unable to get my upgrade to business class (the flight booked full), sleep was not really an option on the way to London.

Then, after spending eighty bucks on a new DC adaptor for my Powerbook with the intent of using the uninterrupted eight hours to do some serious writing, I discovered that my seat did not come equipped with a power supply. Every international flight I have boarded has come complete with a power supply EXCEPT the one flight where I actually brought my laptop.

My life is dripping with irony.

By the time I landed in London, I was a little cranky. 48 hours with four hours of sleep isn't good for anyone. Especially me. I was so tired I couldn't eat. My day got better when I was taught a valuable lesson about double checking your reservations and perhaps more importantly, not making reservations after midnight. Seems when I booked my flight to Milan, I accidentally typed an eight into the date field. Not a nine. Hey, they are right next to each other. I subsequently missed my flight. My flight that cost only thirty pounds (about seventy bucks) to book in advance. Of course, now I had to book a new flight. One that cost me almost $300. And I had to get a hotel. In London. With an exchange rate of more than two to one - NOT in my favor. And I had to change my reservations in Milan. Of course my travel agency has a collect calling number that was blocked so I was forced to use my credit card to make those calls. And to sit on hold. Three times. At about a buck a minute. Throw in three internet sessions at ten bucks a piece and the thirty bucks I just spent for this connection here at the hotel, and my little oopsie cost me about $600.

But wait! It gets better!

We were told the Milan flight was overbooked and they offered Gary a hundred pounds and a free hotel to take the flight tomorrow. We wouldn't know if he would get the bump until after he left for the gate. As neither of us had a global cell phone, I agreed to wait for him at the internet depot in the South Terminal. Which is located right between the two smoking sections. Oh joy. I spent an hour there waiting for him before inquiring at the terminal if he made the flight. They told me it appeared that he was bumped. So I waited. For another two hours.

Went back to the desk to ask again. They said they couldn't tell me the status of any passenger without a police request. So I asked them if the flight checked in full. They told me it had and no one, in fact, was bumped. So now Gary was in Milan, I had spent nine hours in Gatwick, and I still needed to find a hotel. Which required another call to Amex in the states and another fifteen minutes on hold (fucking hurricanes) before I was finally able to check into the Renaissance Gatwick.

Of course, two days without sleep followed by smoke and stress does wonders for a person's health. And despite my going to bed at seven PM, I only managed about seven hours of uninterrupted sleep. I've been up on and off since two. Feverish. Body aches. A canker sore. Add an upset stomach and, frankly, intestinal pains that made me want to curl into a ball and cry like a girl. It didn't help that sometime during the night I managed to turn off the AC and turn on the heater. And if I can make a minor, bitchy editorial comment, British television blows. Although I did get a kick out of the Polish music videos.

I had a ginger ale and a fruit cup this morning to wash down the veritable pile of Advil so I admit I am feeling better. My head still feels like the inside of the Liberty Bell, and I am not excited about coping with foreign languages and foreign streets and foreign food while feeling like this, but honestly, if I have to spend another hour with the BBC, I might go insane.