Not everyone knows that Boston's airport was named after Johnny Logan, who of course won the Eurovision Song Contest twice (in your face Celine Dion).
I'm heading to England today.
I was surprised in these times of terrorism that IS is still allowed to maintain it's Duty Free Shops.
I don't know, one minute they're creating an Islamist State in South East Syria. You turnaround and there they are selling you an over-priced pen.
Next stop for me was the BA Business Lounge. In Boston this means a walk of shame down a smelly corridor past the Lufthansa Lounge.
Their Wi-Fi password this month? singapore.
Blaring out on CNN is the usual mish-mash of news surrounding international terrorism, airplane-spread Ebola, and a fluff piece on Ryan Reynolds.
By the elevator is this exit door.
Did they put up enough signs?
Soon it was time to board my day-time flight to Heathrow.
The configuration in Business is a 'top and tail', so until they bring the dividers up you are facing someone. In my case a miserable lesbian. Her mantra during the whole flight was, "I don't want anything to eat". Interestingly she watched Chef on the in-flight movie.
For the 2nd time running at Heathrow the Fast-Track lane was not fast, because they only had 2 counters open. This time I chose not to huff and puff because the aforementioned lesbian was doing enough for the both of us.
After picking up my bags I headed for the unreasonably priced Heathrow Express. Only $34 for a 15 minute ride ... it's more expensive than Kings Cross (boom boom).
I half expected zombies to come out – the place was so empty. At Paddington I did my usual Marks and Spencer run. You don't understand the beauty of a sandwich in a triangular carton until you live in a place without them.
My hotel is in Kings Cross. As you can imagine it's a junkie's delight. As I checked in 'Kiss On My List' by Hall and Oates was playing. It will be days before I erase this from my brain.
Up in my < 100 sq' room I opened my suitcase to discover the jar of peach jam I had smuggled into the country had indeed smashed, leaving my underwear a wonderful peachy-glass mess.