HOLY CRAP HERE I GO

Getting in to my gate was uneventful. I was briefly terrified that the airline I was supposedly flying on didn't exist, but my fears were unfounded. I was helped by a very nice man with a funny accent, who teased me a lot for telling him I was terrified of flying alone.

I don't travel much by myself. It's a scary thing. The fact I'm going now seems entirely unreal.

I was stopped briefly at security, who looked at me funny when they pulled my bulging change purse out of my bag, only to discover it was entirely filled with nickels.

What can I say? I like Canadian beaver.

But really, they're for the woman I am staying with, Amber (who professes that all the Scottish boys are highly amused by nickels).

Here is where my plane will be. I was all worried for a while there, because I was pretty sure I didn't have the arm power to flap my way to Manchester, but it's there now.

It's smaller than I thought it would be. I don't know what kind of plane it is, but I don't think it's a 747. Either that, or I just remember 747's as being a lot bigger, because the last time I rode one I was twelve (though, curiously, not much shorter than I am now).

Ah, there is an announcement that a storm is coming in. I really hope my flight doesn't get delayed. I have a train to catch on the other side!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaah. I'm not scared, I'm just yelling.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH.

Okay. I'll be fine. Really.

Rock on, peeps. See you on the other side.

(By the by, if you want a postcard from me, and AREN'T my parents, you should Facebook me your mailing address.)