I haven't been to England in ages. My friends call from time to time. They want me to break the routine of JFK-Bangkok flights for a JFK-Heathrow landing. London is 20 hours closer than Thailand. Unfortunately I miss my children too much to deviate from my flight plans, although last night a dream transported my sleeping consciousness to visit my friends. We met in a pub on Westbourne Grove. Drinks were on me. The crowd was enormous. Every one of my English friends were at the bar and several girlfriends vied for my attention. No one had aged a day from when we had last met years ago. The room overreached capacity and I escaped before the publician could present the bill. The total had to be in the thousands, for the British can really drink when it's on someone else's cuff, then again so can most people.
I wandered through a nearby park to a car dealer selling souped-up 70s Toyota for a half-million each. The dealer said no car was faster and a single lap around the racing track cost over $500. I thanked him from the offer and stepped into the ether of my alter-ego.
England is certainly expensive these days.
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