So far this trip I have been called A: “Jet-setter” and B: “Crazy.”

Personally, I would go with option B. Although A does have a nice ring to it. Let me explain.

When I returned from England a few weeks ago, I came with a stack of invitations to various events. Weddings, birthdays and the such. I had big plans to make them all happen, but then reality stepped in and I realized as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t make it all happen. I had to decide between a few of them. I hate deciding and put it off until the last minute, which basically meant that by the time I had decided to attend THIS event, that between work and money and other commitments, I could only be gone for the weekend.

Which is how I found myself in England for the weekend, flying for nearly 18 hours with approx 2 hours of sleep.

It also meant that since my connections were so close, but on non-partner airlines, I couldn’t check a bag. Which meant I had to fit all my camera gear and lenses etc. into a carry on sized bag that weighed under 20 pounds. I impressed myself -but also forgot all but one shirt, so there’s that.

This particular trip also meant I had three different flights instead of a direct flight. Which meant I found myself, at one point, in the bathroom of the LA airport, crying. Because I am nothing if not classy.

Let me explain that one.

The LAX airport and I have never gotten along. Like ever. It is a big airport, with no signs, no directions and slow walking people. Pretty much all of my least favorite things in one place. There were no signs showing where my gate was, no signs indicating where I should go -there was simply nothing. It took me a good hour of wandering around to finally figure out where my gate was -only to discover no one was working until 30 minutes before departure. And by then I was done.

I eventually made it to England where, once I landed, we had about an hour of final prep before we loaded up in the car and took off for Manchester. Unfortunately, it was close to 5PM on a holiday Friday, which meant traffic was horrible and it took us an extra two hours to get to where we going. When it was all said and done we arrived in Manchester about 11PM…nearly two days after my first flight.

We checked into a hotel and crashed for the night.

We spent the day testing out various camera lenses and gear that we had rented for the event and then geared up for the big night.

It was a 40th birthday bash for a couple of friends. There were lots of people, lots of music, lots of dancing and lots of pictures.

We made it back to our motel around midnight.

The next day we packed up and hit the road -stopping off in Wales to meet up with another friend before continuing our journey. I feel like at that point, I was about as moody as the sky.

We drove the rest of the day, got back around 10pm -had some dinner and took blurry selfies of us and the nastiest drink around. Then the next morning I was back in the air flying home. I’m not even going to lie, I slept 90% of my flights home.

So there you have it. A whirlwind trip across the pond. Am I crazy? Most definitely. Would I do it again? Most definitely!

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