I think there comes a point in everyone's life, where you're sitting in Starbucks, stealing wireless internet from someone next door drinking your fourth cup of coffee before ten o'clock and wondering what to do with the next eight hours. Or that's how i'm spending my morning. Perhaps you're doing something different. I don't know, but i'm pretty sure you know how i feel. A sense of boredom creeping in, knowing that there's no way to end it in the immediate future.

But wait, let me set the scene. This morning is the beginning of the end of a rather large roadtrip that the lovely lady and i have been on for almost a week now. It started in Las Vegas where we went for Rachel's uncle's wedding. After returning to Chicago for two hours sleep, we promptly set of to Louisville down in Kentucky for a couple of days and tomorrow we're off to Indianapolis for yet another night in a dodgy hotel before returning home.

And so it began with a trip from Chicago O'Hare airport to Las Vegas. Most people know my feeling on O'Hare airport. You ask an official to point you towards your gate and they look at you like you're asked them if you can pop your penis in their mouth. Ask them where you can find a trolley and you're bloody lucky if you don't get shipped to Guantanimo. Well no that's a lie. But you may well get deported immdiately. However, i'll be honest. I will have to change my opinion somewhat. It's only the INTERNATIONAL terminal where the employees are complete and utter bastards. You know, the terminal where all the foreigners and immigrants come in. In the internal flights department they're nice as pie. Can i help you here, let me give you a hand with your bag there and please sir, definately DON'T go to hell over there. But there we are. I (once again) have got sidetracked.
So how did i end up here?

Stop 1. Las Vegas. This is quite possibly (and by quite possibly i mean definately) the sleaziest, dirtyiest most desperate place i have EVER been. Imagine blackpool, but 20 times as big, and 50 times as filthy in 115 degree heat and with a large quantity of scantily clad women doing things that envolve shedding the last precious items of clothing (along with the last priceless shreds of dignity that once they had) and several paddling pools full of lime jelly. I must admit it's not all bad though. At least (unlike Blackpool) it's not packed full of bloody northeners.

Stop 2. A plane ride back on which the engines wouldn't start for half an hour and the woman next to us was talking about how she could smell burning ("oh, don't worry about me, i always smell burning when i get migranes, i get them when i think of my brother who was killed in an airplane crash...)

Stop 3. A stay for two nights in Kentucky. Enough said.

And so here i am down south. Stuck in town for eight hours while Rachel is at work. So what can i do. Start a blog for one. Watch this space.