This is a strange place, at least, strange to me.
A flight from LAX. This is the airport where Arnold Schwarzneggershouldered me out of the way on the baggage reclaim in 1984. Crimson hadflown in for a tv show en route to Japan. The flight from LAX - only 53passengers on a 767 - wonderment! joy! I read today's Financial Times & lastweekend's "Observer", my current English Sunday of choice (I have abandonedThe Independent on both a daily and Sunday basis) behind the FT Weekend. Myonly newspaper reading is generally while flying.
Chris Murphy was waiting for me at JFK, (18.15 local time) having bussedover from La Guardia where his Seattle via Chicago flight landed an hour orso earlier.
Toyah was home in London: this evening she helped switch on the Christmaslights in Richmond in front of 2000 people. The Little Horse is Jack in"Jack And The Beanstalk" at Richmond this year.
John Sinks met us with the van just before seven: he'd got horribly lost inBrooklyn. On the way here via Nashville and Austin he'd dropped in to getgas in Hope, Arkansas: a guy offered him crack at the gas station.
Whenever John & Chris & I set off with one arrival point in mind, usuallywe detour to take in uninteresting locations along the route to, on thisparticular evening, Huntington Station, Long Island. We are staying at theHuntington Country Inn, actually a motel on the side of a busy road.
Dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant. Quote of the day:
Waiter to John: What would you like to drink, sir?
Johnto Waiter: Sparkling water, please.
Waiter to John: You mean, something like Sprite?
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