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At last, it was time to go home. But going home wasn't that simple -- we had to leave around 5 in the morning, get on a plane to Gatwick, then await our plane out of London to JFK. After a heart-stopping moment where we suspect our taxi-cab driver dropped us off at the wrong airport (running on little sleep and in the dark, everything looks the same), we managed to stumble onto the plane home.
The helpful British Airways folk give us some disturbing news: they can't seat us together. Flying into headwinds makes the flight even longer, which made it all the more important that we were sitting next to someone we could tolerate. They assure us that at Gatwick, our seats will be switched around.
They were wrong.
Fortunately, Amber was able to rescue me from 10 hours of flying hell -- the kindly gentleman sitting next to her switched seats with me. My seat was right behind the bawling brats and right next to Mr. BadBreath (I choked when he exhaled in frustration, and he was BEHIND me). We were able to sleep this time around, as going home isn't quite as exciting as going to a new country.
Cornwall was an unforgettable experience. Despite the wind, the rain, the mud, and the long walks, we truly "did" Cornwall the way it is meant to be experienced. We'd like to return to England again, and this time do the "hands-off-touristy-thing" in London. Maybe next year...
