Ding bat de jour lands in London

I remembered my wallet. Unbelievable. I even remembered my toothbrush. Amazing. On the bus to the airport however, The Man and I start a conversation about when I will get to my parent's flat in London. I realize that I don't have the map and address that my folks had given me. Now London is a little large to just wander around in and hope for the best so we started to scramble for plan B. I didn't know their phone number (SKYPE, who phones anymore?) I didn't know their address (e-mail, see above) Hmmmmm.

Well, there must be an internet job in the airport. There is always an internet job in the airport. I will e-mail every member of my family to get them to send the phone number and then pick up my mail in London, also e-mail my folks. Tell them what their stupid daughter had done. Get to the airport, get through security. No small task these days, and there is no internet access inside security. Go figure. It is Spain though, you aren't supposed to work all the time.
Well, head down to the gate, and there is a guy at the WiFi desk! Unheard of in Barcelona, this is the land of vacations, not work.....I've never seen anyone there before so I race over. 'Scuse me, do you speak English? Turns out he is a professor in Pittsburg and the head of the oldest on-line chess club. I'll give him a link if I get a chance (Can't find it yet). 5 Euro's later (you have to pay in the airport) I'm on-line! Send out my SOS and get off. Then go to a corner and empty my bag. GUESS WHAT! I had the map. Can you say blonde?

At least I had it.

Then in London, I find my way to the apartment building and realize that there is no apartment number, and I don't have the phone number yadda yadda yadda. Try the corner store, the corner restaurant and the nearest hotel. No luck, no phone book, no internet. I am now in the lobby, and cannot find the apartment. So near and yet so far.

Finally, finally finally someone comes in and I explain my predicament hoping they will look up the phone number for me. They look at my map and tell me that what I was assuming was the street number since it was writen as 5 Main Street.... was actually the APARTMENT NUMBER.

Sure enough, it was. Nice to be here and great to see the kids again. It was so opaque, I don't even feel guilty or dumb.

Well, not about the apartment anyway.

The kids squabbled all evening to punish/greet me. Such is life