If you ever take one thing away from these babblings as Loraine and I do strange things, I hope that one thing is this--
Don't ever be a seathole.
Yes, I know that's a made up word. But I'll explain what I mean by it and why you should (hopefully) never ever be one in a second.
First of all, just let me say that we safely made it to Germany, where we are now ensconced at the B&B Hotel in Kaiserslautern, a place we stayed for four or five days last time around. We chose this place for our first night because it's not too far from Frankfurt, just in case (as we've had to do once or twice before) we had to run back and get a lost piece of luggage. Thankfully, American and British Airways came through, so we're sitting here with our luggage, where we'll get a little sleep after almost 48 hours without it before we head to our ultimate destination this time around, Saarbrucken, tomorrow morning.
Of course, K-Town's a pretty cool place in and of itself, as you may recall from our last visit, with sandstone architecture up the wazoo--
And a whole bunch of grocery stores where you can just walk in, and behold the glory that awaits you--
Of course that was after spending the preceding day and a half eating a LOT of food while we were getting over here. We arrived in Chicago yesterday morning around 7 their time, and since our flight to London didn't leave until 5 that afternoon, we hopped on the Blue Line Train and spent several hours visiting some of our favorite places, buying lots of goodies, and then eating it in places like this--
They feed you a lot when you're on the plane, and then we (or, more to the point, I) have a weird tradition every time we fly through London. Whenever we get there, usually around 630 in the morning, I go to an airport shop for a breakfast that consists of (among other things) these--
Hey--British people eat cold baked beans and tomatoes for breakfast. Compared to that, my repast of European Dr Pepper and (uhm) shrimp cocktail flavored potato chips is nothing to sneeze at, right?
Please tell me that's right.
8-)
Besides, after what we went through on the flight over we deserved it. One of the very few things I dislike about traveling is when you get stuck behind a seathole. Yes, that's a made up word, and yes, its made up by combining all of the word "seat" and the end of another word that begins with an "a". A seathole is someone who doesn't take another person into consideration when lowering their seat back into (in her case) Loraine's obstructed view out the windows pr (in my case) right into my knees. That happened to both of us within 20 or so minutes last night, and since both of the seatholes in front of us were wearing Airpods they didn't hear Loraine's angry grumblings or my howls of pain.
I know I'm a little funny about this, but because I have freakishly long legs every time I have an encounter with a seathole I end up with bruises on my knee. I would NEVER lower my seat back if I knew someone was behind me, and I'd like to think that other individuals would take the feelings of the people sitting behind them into account.
But after last night, I know that ain't gonna happen often enough.
Tomorrow, we head to Saarbrucken to accomplish the two major things we hope to accomplish this time around--for Loraine to see her favorite Saarbrucken soccer player at an open practice, and for me to buy chocolate.
After all, that's WHY one goes to Europe, right?
(jimkoskimqt@gmail.com)