Leaving and Landing - 27th/28th December

So. This is it. Here I am, in my window seat, waiting to see who I'll be sharing personal space with for the next 25 hours.

It still doesn't feel real.

I don't mind saying quite frankly that today has definitely been one of the most emotionally draining days of my life.

My phone's been blowing up all day with more supportive messages than I thought possible - the last from my dad came through a few minutes ago.

"Just to let you know. We love you more than you can imagine. We are so proud of you and not a minute will pass that we won't miss you. Have a wonderful time. Take care and be safe. Love mum and dad x"

(He must be really serious because he's finally managed to take his phone off caps lock, which he couldn't be bothered to do for the last month)

It really makes it that much more difficult to comprehend. Why on earth would I ever want to leave so many people I care about (in summer too I might add), to go to the other side of the world, in the depths of a freezing winter, where I barely know anyone?

Sometimes it really does make me question my sanity.

But the nice thing is, I'm not the only one.

After all of 30 seconds I've already made friends with the two girls sitting next to me. Emma and Kate are friends from Thames, around my age, and this is also their first big trip overseas. Bonded by mutual fear and excitement, we've spent the first half of the journey alternately talking about our plans, attempting to sleep, and completely losing our collective shit upon catching sight of the Hollywood sign.

I have to say, it was nice to have people to go through US customs with - as much as you think you've prepared yourself for it, US Border Control is a surreal experience. I've never seen such organised chaos, or such a contrast in attitudes from the officers. Clearly there's an element of 'Survival of the Fittest' to their screening process, because the guards on the floor directing people are intimidating, no-nonsense, and somewhat disdainful towards all the poor confused travelers wandering about like lost sheep.

(I guess if you make it to the desk you're deemed fit to at least try and enter the country)\

The guards at the desk however, are seemingly all in good cheer, and will even crack a few jokes while they take electronic scans of your fingerprints, and a quick photo for their records. Officer Song and I had some great banter about the two minutes it had taken me to fill out my (in the end, unnecessary) declaration form (this is apparently slow and I should be aiming for 30 seconds in the future).
*A word of advice to anyone heading through US Customs any time soon - for god's sake, wear slip on shoes and a dress. By the time I'd managed to identify and remove all the articles I was wearing that could potentially offend the metal detector (shoes, watch, jacket, belt, laptop in a separate tray, jackets in another, bag on its own), I was told by the (lovely and very patient) customs lady "you're killing me here sweetheart". Clearly filling out declaration forms is not the only area I need to speed up in!

After the process that was getting through immigration, we found ourselves in the monster that is LAX. Unsurprisingly, the ooh's and ah's we let out as we made out way through the terminal were not directed at the soaring roof or modern design - they were very much reserved for all the stores we passed! Fred Segal, Burberry, Coach, Bulgari, Porsche, Victoria's Secret :O!!!
Even though I blatantly couldn't afford anything (and didn't have any US currency anyway) I was desperate to look around. Unfortunately, due to our short transit stop and an urgent need to freshen up, we didn't have the time or opportunity (and almost missed our connecting flight altogether when Emma left her wallet on a couch, and spent a frantic ten minutes running the length of LAX to find it!). See Dad, I'm not the only one likely to do this - I was the responsible one here!

Fortunately we did end up making the flight in plenty of time, although without the water we were so desperately craving (that recycled plane air really gets you!). After a solid dinner (plane food really has improved a lot from the first time I tasted it eight years ago) and as much water as I could ask for without royally pissing off the flight attendants, I managed a rather more solid sleep, and woke up around 7am London time (or 8pm NZ time - my body is so confused) this morning.

Got Kate to snap some quality photos of the sunrise as we neared the Irish this morning (just look at those colours!), and then enjoyed a hearty-but-very-sweet breakfast (the americans put sugar in EVERYTHING) as we flew over the edge of the Atlantic. With an hour to go until we land at Heathrow, it's finally starting to sink in.

Look out London. Here I come.