I'm laying on a twin sized bed in a hotel that looks and feels like a bed and breakfast. Cozy is an apt word for this quaint abode, tiny as hell is also another word that comes to mind... but that just may be my American sensibilities. I've had a mediocre dinner... some kind of beef pie... which was really just bits of beef floating in a dark gravy substance. It was perfectly edible after some lengthy shakes of salt and pepper. I am in London ... not Pairs (though when I booked the flight there were 24 seats available, but, by take off there were only 15 seats available and I was number 18 on the list). Hours later, a ticket agent graciously told me and another gentleman that we could get on the London flight... and to my tattered hearts' delight... I found myself in an aisle seat. The cost of flying free was 31 hours of waiting around Newark airport. After two hours of waiting in line at the U.K border, I found my luggage, hopped into a ridiculously priced taxi and crashed at The Ambassador Heathrow Hotel. I will commence to sleeping off a sore throat. At 4am I'll hop into an uber for half the price of my morning taxi, and I will finally be on my way to Madrid. I wistfully hope the quick glimpses of the royal wedding will prance through my dreams tonight.