Sleepless in Heathrow.

Since leaving Halifax, I have peed six times. I think that’s pretty good. I drank water and tomato juice on the plane and I just finished off two pints of Guinness at a cozy little pub in Heathrow appropriately called “O’Neill’s.” O is Irish for fun.
When we arrived in London, we met up with Michael in the long line to get to Terminal 3. He’s a pretty good guy thus far. During our early engagements, he spoke kindly of his friend Johnny Wong. Initially, we suspected that Johnny Wong was a Chinese Mafioso but so far, he seems legit. Plus, he and Michael just went in together on two litres of Johnny Walker Black Label. So they’re okay in my book.
To recap, memories to date include urine, the plethora of minorities working at Heathrow (remarkably, any airport security-related skirmish that we’ve witnessed so far has occurred between individuals of the same race. We’ll all sleep well tonight knowing that it’s not just white people that use racial profiling anymore – sometimes, it can be your brother. Or mom. Think about that.) and Guinness.
We’re all very tired. Jenn is perhaps the most tired but her tiredness is followed closely by that of Johnny. Dan, Michael and myself appear to have gotten over the tired hump so we should be game for some Christmas Day fun in Stockholm.
Canada takes to the ice tomorrow against host Sweden. That should be pretty good. If you’re watching for us on TV, we’ll be the ones that aren’t blonde.
Anyway, it’s 12:55 and those bastard Scandinavians still haven’t told us what gate our 1:20 flight is leaving from. So I think we’re going to go figure that out.
See you in Sweden.

Love,
The Apple Dumpling Gang