Here. We. Go. - Blogabond

With the first World Cup game starting at 8:30 in the morning, I decided it was necessary to head to the soccer bar down the street to join in the festivities. I wasn’t the only one. Every table was full, with support divided roughly 50/50 between Mexican fans and people cheering against Mexico. In this case, that translated into cheering for South Africa. It was disappointing to see South Africa come so close to winning at the end and just missing by hitting the post, but the draw was acceptable.

Following the game, it was time to finish up all last-minute packing, dishes and laundry before heading out at 3 to go to the airport. Naturally, it would’ve been too easy to have everything go smoothly, and so we ran into the first problem of the trip before we even left. Our plan was to go to Chelsea’s stadium, Stamford Bridge, to watch the US-England match Saturday night. Well, as it turned out, the tickets, instead of being held at the stadium, were sent to Chicago. Only problem is that the post office declined to deliver them to Ryan. So Friday afternoon, as we were ready to leave, I had to try and pick them up from the post office since Ryan was leaving from work. After a 20-minute song and dance with the guy at the post office who told me he could lose his job if he gave me the tickets but that he wouldn’t necessarily not give them to me, I was able to get them and finally head off to the airport.

Between the hassle of the L, the shuttle at the airport, the process of checking bags and getting tickets, and then the security lines, we got to the gate with about 30 minutes before they closed the gate. Not too long after settling our bags down, I see a woman with 3 roller bags struggling to move them all over to a chair, followed by her yelling at…somebody. Turns out it was her husband and son, and it was merely a preview of what was to follow for the next 8 hours. These people were acting like they were at home – they didn’t quite understand how to act in public. Once we got on the plane, it was merely a matter of moments before the same commotion came into our area, and sure enough, the crazy family was sitting directly behind us. Fantastic. Carrying over from the gate area, they were unable to follow any directions from the flight attendants, dumped all of their trash under our seats, yelled at each other during the flight, kicked our seats continuously, couldn’t figure out the video system at their seats, the mother cried because her son was elbowing her yelling “This has GOT to stop!”, and so on. For 8 hours. Needless to say, I couldn’t be happier to get off the plane.

London, here we are.

written by

nucappy on June 12, 2010 from Heathrow, United Kingdom

from the travel blog: London and South Africa - World Cup 2010!

tagged London and WorldCup

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Wouldn't it have been easier to fly thru Brazil? BTW I hate flying because I am almost always stuck between a really fat dude and the bathroom, with an army of chair kickers behind me, and with the only person in the world that figure out how to lean their chair all the Fucking way back in front of me. Bah.

written by norbert on June 15, 2010

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