As I start writing this it is 2:36 AM and I'm enjoying an ice-cold Sanpellegrino Limonata "sparkling lemon drink" (translation: "lemon sodie pop") while suffering from one of my periodic bouts of insomnia, but at least this time I know why sleep will not come.
This Friday evening I leave for my first vacation of a decent length in almost exactly four years and my anticipation of getting the fuck out of my job, Brooklyn and the States in general is keeping me awake. I'll be visiting one of my favorite people on the globe, running around in one of my favorite countries, and just plain flat-out making an all-too-brief escape from my daily routine. No subways. No loud and uncouth shithead neighbors. No worrying about the well-being and employment of friends and family. This will be some well-deserved me time, and I welcome it like I would welcome a new and kind lover.
While across the Pond, I intend to divorce myself from my day-to-day New York programming and allow the many charms of the UK to work their ancient magic upon me as I breathe air rich with the flavor of ancient myth and legend and stuff my face with some of the best comfort food the planet has to offer. The mere thought of the assorted items that comprise the British breakfast set me to smiling from ear to ear, and the promise of authentic Yorkshire Pudding and real fish and chips ignites olfactory memories that kicks my salivary glands into overdrive. In fact, if I have my way, the first thing I'll do once off the plane with luggage retrieved is snag a couple of sausage rolls, perhaps the most perfect treat in the annals of culinary wizardry.
I'm also looking forward to seeing what effect the coming of Spring has on the amount of clothing worn by Britain's females. There's a lot to be said for the daughters of England, in terms of both visual allure and personality, so while I'm not embarking on "the pull," as they say, when I get there, my eyes will be open and appreciative. Don't get me wrong; I'd love to go on the pull, but at my age I doubt I'll realistically be able to get anywhere with that quest in the limited amount of time I have at my disposal, plus I wouldn't care to impose my on-vacay sexual escapades with assorted "birds" upon my dear friend who is kind enough to put me up for free. (Mind you, I don't think she'd really care, but I'd like to be considerate.)
Anyway, It's now just past 3AM and I'm beginning to experience one of those over-tired headaches that signal the need to turn off the lights and TV, close my eyes and simply rest my mind, the possibility of sleep being a bonus rather than a guarantee. Only two days until Blighty... Only two...more...days...