The Final Countdown Has Started

In exactly one week, I will be sat on a plane.

Cramped into my seat for nine and a half hours.

I’ll be pondering life as I watch a generic Tom Cruise Sci-Fi film and eat chicken that tastes like cardboard out of a silvery plastic trough.

The days of Sully’s Sports Grill’’s glorious waffles will be long behind me. Sob.

Back to England I go. Flying conditions permitting of course.

It always makes me laugh just before takeoff. The pilot makes the mandatory announcement welcoming everyone to the plane. Yawn. He then says something that I have heard fifty pilots before him say.

The usual guff about how flying conditions are looking ‘very good and clear’.

It then hits you.

What else is he going to say? ‘Hi guys, sorry to say that flying conditions are looking grim at best. Plenty of rough stuff about. If I’m being totally honest, I’ll do well to land this thing. Strap yourselves in folks, things could get messy’. Could you imagine that!?

On seconds thoughts, I’m rather thankful for the reassurance.

I think Mother Nature has sensed my pending relocation and has decided to ease me back into my usual surroundings by bringing British weather to College Station.

Which is a shame, because I could have done with topping up my tan before leaving.

Alas, maybe an improved tan wouldn’t be the best idea anyway. Someone with a tan in the UK during November would stick out like a sore thumb. And I’ve done enough of that whilst being in Texas.

I’m dreading the jet lag already. When I nipped back across the pond a few weeks ago, it destroyed me. My sleeping pattern was as erratic as Taylor Bertolet’s kicking. Each day, it felt like my head was getting repeatedly sat on by BJ Raji.

Nobody has got time for that.

Especially not me. Reintegrating back into British society is going to be hard enough.

No more saying ‘howdy’, no more nodding/smiling at people as you walk past and in general, no more being a nice person.

Well, I could, but it would probably result in getting a slap around the chops.

Quite simply, if in public you approach a stranger for anything other than directions, you will immediately be labelled as a ‘weirdo’ or ‘sex offender’. Or both.

Instead, I plan on keeping my nut down. Out of trouble. Out of sight. Back to being a ghost of society.

One thing I won’t miss about Texas is living out of motels and travel inns. After multiple weeks of it, I’m pretty sure I’ve started to go a little insane in the membrane.

The words ‘cabin fever’ come to my mind. You see things in a travel inn environment that no man or woman should ever have to see.

For instance, only last night, I woke up to someone repeatedly banging on my door. Naturally, I was bricking it. What on earth was happening?

There was no way I was going to open the door. I kept my cool. I looked through the peephole and it was the idiot from next door thinking my room was his.

Even more worryingly, I could only see the top half of him and he was naked. I didn’t want to know anymore details. I slumped back to bed and tried to convince myself that it was all just an inconvenient dream.

That’s barely the tip of the iceberg. When I stayed in Houston for a night, it was one of the most surreal experiences I’ve ever had. That along with my Halloween night in Northgate, I’m keeping for the book. Can’t give all the comedy gold away!

I long for my apartment. However, I’m not looking forward to seeing my girlfriend’s face when she sees the ridiculously massive Texas A&M flag that I plan to smuggle back to the UK and hang up on gamedays.

Boy, is she going to be pissed when she sees that.

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