How I Arrived in Manchester

My journey to the UK started somewhat inconspicuously with a plane ride to Newark, NJ, the center of the world’s fast-food empire, or at least it seems from the inside of the airport. I was surrounded by loud rushing people while not being one myself, having a three hour wait until my next flight. At least I got to talk to my family and friends during this time, decreasing my dislike for my surroundings since the terminal was hot and sticky in the early June sun. I guess in areas that not hot 24/7 like Florida is, people do not run the air-conditioning all day, everyday until it or the people freeze. After the wait I boarded the plane only to find out my seat’s table fell down at the drop of a hat as well as the chair back would not stay reclined. Of course at this time I was too tired to say anything to the flight crew since my mind had shut off from exhaustion. All I could remember thinking when I awoke to my breakfast served on the table that had fallen down during my rest was, “I sure hope this is not a representation of what is to come.” Luckily for me, what I have found in Manchester has gotten better by the day.