Thanksgiving In London

While at the airport to catch my flight to Louisville, KY for the Thanksgiving holiday yesterday, I accidentally boarded a flight to London.

The confusion started when I ran into some security trouble at O’Hare airport. Now, may I just begin by saying that I sometimes say threatful things. These are not things of which ever I mean. That is to say I don’t mean them. I never say them to people, but only to stationary and non-hearing things such as a mailbox or a door frame. So when I cursed a chair and said I would bomb it if it did not cooperate, I was overheard and made to sit in the exact chair I had threatened. To be fair to the chair, I was curt with it before it was curt to me in response. I’m not going to get into why I made angry comments to the chair, but suffice it to say I was having a rough day, and I doubt I’ll be seeing Paul, my godson, any time soon. So being made to sit in the chair was poetic and just desserts, which is exactly how I like my desserts. I once ate a custard that was more literal than poetic and I did not care for it.

Upon being dismissed from the chair, I fell into an open bag of a kind young man with big arms, and since he didn’t notice me, I didn’t want to startle him, so I remained silent. I did tap lightly on the interior of the bag and said “Excuse me, I don’t want to cause any trouble, but I’m in here,” but nobody heard me, so I just took my medicine and fell asleep.

When I awoke I was in an overhead compartment next to the miniature set of golf clubs that had woken me with their incessant rattling and head-knocking. I was able to unzip the bag to get some fresh air, and again I tried rapping gently to alert people to my presence, but decided to let them all be. It had been a rough day for all of us.

I spent the last 8 hours of the flight rummaging through people’s things looking for a good laugh, but I found nothing. When they opened my compartment, I let my eyes adjust, and then allowed my body to be passed above the heads of all the people until I was on solid ground.

When I deboarded the plane, I knew immediately I was in London, because the first thing I saw was the Abbey Road crosswalk where Marvin Trapp and the Polka-doors posed for their famous album cover in 1941, so I laid down for a nap, as that had been a longterm dream of mine.

I spent most of today watching plays and fog and coppers. I hope to find a youth hostel to stay at. Do you suppose they’ll have turkey? I found sweet potatoes in the overhead bin.

When is Thanksgiving?

Can someone remind me if Thanksgiving is next weekend or the weekend after. I need to start putting together my invite list. Alright, thanks. Bye-bye, honey.