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UK 70.3 race week. He had braved two center seats and 15 hours in the air to get to Exeter, England. No 'quality' sleep since Tuesday and it's now Thursday at 1740. He laughed thinking that he needed to avoid at all cost any mirrors for the shock of seeing Keith Richard's wearing HIS cap, reflecting back, just take him to a 19th nervous breakdown. Such is life on the RCV trail these days folks. On the next-to-last leg, seedy Kennedy to pulpy Paris, le gande Air France baguette had two video cams in the belly and showed the landing live on the big screen. It looked eerily like an RCV. Alours, Bastards!!!! Stole our vision and cheapened it for an easy ovation. Remember the days when the passengers (now referred to as meat) actually applauded upon arrival after a long flight? Anyway, the resolution was horrid and the colors were washed out and dull. Where have I heard that before?????? He was so famished on that long trek that he even ate some "pollack", (beef wellington being the other option). It was surprisingly OK, tasting kinda like chicken as he recalled how that used to taste. The French wine (complementary) and the cognac (also on the house) was a nice touch, even it it now seems in retrospect that they might have been setting him up for the encore du vin of the RCV landing. We can learn something from these people he thought.

Across the English channel and into Exeter, eyes swollen, heart rate near max, back on fire. Bus into city center. Walk (with four bags feeling like a sherpa) twenty minutes to the Backpackers Hotel (cleverly disguised as a hostel) and check in. A private room tonight is the perfect reward, even at 40 pounds, which as far as he could tell was about $110 US. when they said that the dollar was weak over here, he never thought that it was anemic as well. The rest of the stay (in a bunk) is only 15 (40). Part of the good RCV karma for spending over 3 large on air fare.

Exeter is very cool. Old Roman outpost transported into the present via shops, jobs and affordable housing. Photos to follow as tomorrow he would brave the trail towards Oxford and the race as a dress rehearsal. He could hear the joke now as he asked the inevitable question in the morning, "How do I get to Oxford"?

Three possible punch lines:

"You"?
"Study, study, study"
"Born into the wrong family son, gotta smoke?"