Right, Now You Want Me To Believe That My Pillow Got Up And Walked Away By Itself?

No need for that to make any sense to anyone else. What it means is that I'm in London. Flight took off 2 1/2 hours late, and arrived 2 hours late. I didn't get a whole lot of sleep, but not because I couldn't have. The bed was remarkably comfortable. I just didn't want to waste the whole flight (which is why I'm furiously chugging Red Bull right now so I don't fall asleep during dinner with my friend). So, I watched a British movie on the flight. And liked it. Furdells - do some research: "Shaun of the Dead."

Movie was OK, food OK, plane very fancy (though disconcerting to try to look out the windows - because of the positioning of the Upper Class Suites, you're kind of going sideways). But the highlight of the flight was the massage. That's right, the massage. I have never had a professional massage before, of any kind. When the "treatments" flight attendant came around at the beginning to ask if I wanted one, I almost said no. She presented me with my options - two different kinds of hand treatments, something else, and the "neck, back and shoulder" massage. But I couldn't say no to her. Because she was straight hot. Like really, really hot. She would have qualified as beautiful even in a still photo where all that was visible was her face. Add in the body, short white skirt, and British accent, and I wouldn't have said no to her even if she were offering me a beatdown instead of a rubdown.

Now, the way this works is Tracey asks everyone in Upper Class if they're interested in a treatment, but informs you that the order is selected at random, and there's no guarantee she'll get to you. That was wrong, to potentially tease me that way. But let's face it - the order isn't random, Tracey chooses. And as soon as I had finished my duck, she was there to ask if I was ready. And I was. She sat me down in a chair with one of those face cutout holes, seatbelted me in, and asked me if it would be alright if she used some essential oils on my neck. Again, she could have asked the same about crude oil, and I would have said, "Uh huh!" She then said to me, and this is verbatim, "So LiAps, do you like your mAH-sages rather firm?" I said "Yes, please." There was minimal conversation, but she rubbed and kneaded and pressed and it was fantastic. Seriously, it felt really good. When she was done, I swear, my first instinct was to say, "OK, your turn." Oh, the things I could have done with her. After that, Jamie, my (male) flight attendant, turned down my bed for me (I had declined the "sleep suit" and just slept in my jeans), and I caught about 45 minutes of the most relaxed sleep I'd ever had. Having never flown such fancy First Class before (when I told the FAs that at the beginning, one of them said , "Oh, so we've got a Virgin virgin, Ay?" How often you think they use that one?), I was unsure whether it would have been appropriate to tip Tracey. Clearly it would have been inappropriate to give her what I wanted to give her, but I have a nagging feeling I should have done something.

Speaking of money, I got so FUCKED on that Euros to GBPs transaction, you have no idea. Seriously, the exchange rates are so much worse at the airport. I had paid $401 for 300 Euros, so that's the baseline figure. When I traded those 300 Euros for GBPs, I got 160 GBPs. A GBP is approx. $1.80. So, I got $288 worth of GBPs. That means my stupidity cost me (not the client, me - I can't in good conscience charge that to the client; what I should have done was just kept the Euros and returned them all at the end of the trip, then bought some GBPs or just gone to an ATM when I got here. Fuck me.) $113. That can't be right. Somebody PLEASE fix my math, because that's ridonkulous.

Walked around for about 2 hours today taking pictures. Honestly, I doubt a single one will turn out good. I was so tired I didn't even know what I was looking at. But at least I can prove I was here. Though I did not get a picture of the most scandalous moment of my wandering - seeing some dude pull his girlfriend close for a little PDA in the middle of a busy (pedestrian) street and somehow untie her skirt. It went down. I was right there. She wasn't very attractive, but it was the first time I'd seen that part of a woman up close in a while. Tracey, please come back and get me.