This is the (slightly edited and refined) journal I kept on my trip to Ireland, Wales, and England. Ie: The Worst Trip Ever. Literary references will flow throughout...ish.
10pm, 3.16.07
After spending almost eight hours in the Birmingham Airport waiting for our delayed plane, we finally are in the air. I feel I've bonded with my fellow travelers in our treacherous journey thus far. I am exhausted and hungry and slightly ill, but we are on the way to Chicago now. From then, who knows? We may have to spend the night--whether in a hotel or airport is uncertain. Even though it isn't Europe, it's still further from home than I've ever been. I'm dreamy right now, from the whir of the plane and the popping of my ears. I want to rest, but know I'll be woken soon. How full life is of surprises. My horoscope today said that plans would unexpectedly change with spectacular results. I'm feeling optimistic.
12am. 3.17.07
The descent into Chicago was like falling into something unbelievable--one of Gatsby's wildly exploding parties. As the lights grew bigger, I wondered why there were spots that were light less--only to recognize them as grey clouds suspended in the air below us. It felt like a secret sight, like the chimney sweep scene in Mary Poppins--something mystic and serene and utterly surprising. Now we sit in a clump in the O'Hare baggage claim waiting for luggage that will never come.
It seems that we will be missing out in Ireland entirely. We will spend some time in Chicago. We've officially nicknamed the baggage claim conveyor belt the River Styx. The airport? The Waste Land. Ah, life. I feel like a Beat poet, a vagrant, lurking and jiving through America.
10am. 3.17.07
After sinking deeply into the throes of despair last night in baggage claim, we checked into a Motel 6 for the "night" at about four in the morning. At nine we got up, thinking that we had to go back to the airport--they told us if we weren't all there with our passports we couldn't even discuss moving up our flight. They lied, only our chaperon had to be present. Now we're sitting at Denny's eating breakfast and preparing to spend the day in Chicago, as well as most of tomorrow.
Another night in the smoky Motel 6, but what can you do? It's almost romantically seedy. Our flights are at six tomorrow--so they're telling us we'll have a full day in Dublin. Life looks up.
12pm. 3.17.07
We're about to go shopping and to the art institute. We're bundling up as best we can and feeling pretty happy. At least Chicago has a fairly big St. Patrick's Day celebration--they dye the river green!
1pm. 3.17.07
After walking a literal mile into the 30 degree wind, I am writing this on the El train as we head downtown.
9:40pm. 3.17.07
The Cezanne to Picasso, Vollard exhibit was incredible. I love the Institute of Art, I could have spent days there. Favorite hands down was Derain's Big Ben. Then shopping and back to our motel home. Tomorrow we will sleep in and then go to the airport for our 6 o'clock flight. Finally we'll leave the US!
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