Jet Lag

Good Morning America. My plane touched down at about five minutes past four p.m. eastern time. It is currently around 6:30 a.m. in the central United States, and I have been awake for about an hour. I slept with my dad's dog, and I woke up too early even for her. She keeps looking at me like I'm insane. Well, Gracie, you're not wrong.

Walking out of London was easier than I expected. With every step, I felt myself propelled forward into the next step. I thought I would cry, or throw up or something, but I didn't. I just kept walking. Turning my back on Liam was easier than I expected as well. I cried a little bit, but I kept walking, and, most importantly, I kept breathing. No more life support...just me.

I thought taking a Valium on the plane would make the time disappear, but it wasn't quite as dramatic as some people made it out to be. I downed a half, as I was told, before we took off...and luckily we taxied on the runway enough for it to kick in and relax me before getting into the air. I'm not afraid to fly, goodness knows, I do it all the time, but I'm not comfortable. Take off is the worst, and a muscle relaxer now and then helps a lot. However, while I was expecting to pass out and wake up at landing...I did not. I enjoyed the feeling of my relaxed muscles, ate a lovely meal, and watched Charlie Wilson's War before getting annoyed with the effects of the drugs and taking the other half. I then slept for about two hours...I think? I woke up in time to watch another full length movie...and to enjoy some good old fashioned turbulence. I almost threw up...and I never get that uncomfortable on a plane. I was lucky though...someone had some trouble that kept the flight attendants occupied for pretty much the rest of the flight. It also kept a poor doctor out of his posh first class reclining seat. When we did land, we had to wait for the paramedics to get this unfortunate guy/girl off the plane.

I cried when we landed. We circled Atlanta a few times, and I watched it on that screen that shows the plane creeping across the Atlantic, giving you minute to minute updates of miles left to travel. I was so engrossed by the screen that I didn't noticed the feeling I usually get when the plane is just about to touch ground. It was a bit of a jolt, but not too terrible. Some people clapped, I just cried.

Being home isn't the magical parade I imagined it would be. I suppose my heart is still in England, although I do have to say...well done Old Navy...the new dresses this season are phenomenal...and pretty much all $24.50. I slept on the drive back to Huntsville...waking up every half hour to ask my dad if he was okay in case I needed to drive...which would have been suicide because I was pretty much unconscious. Upon checking my email, I realized that the job I was counting on this summer is only going to pay me about $400 a month...which means I need to get another part time job. Any ideas? Maybe I should just try to get a job copy writing for some newspaper. How does one get a moderately lucrative job in Memphis? I've become a Monday to Friday girl and am not anxious to jump into waiting tables on the weekend.

I cried myself back to sleep in the end. I slid out of my pungent shoes and slid into bed with an eager to cuddle dog, and I cried a little cry. I suppose living is like riding a bike...you never really forget how to do it...even when you think you might have.