Last Friday morning I boarded a flight from LAX to EWR. Oh, I know, I could have flown direct to the Centre of the Universe, but a) it would have cost more miles, and b) there were more options on Air Canada, which I try to avoid flying. So disloyal to my home country, I know. I had originally booked LAX --> DEN --> YYZ, but it meant an ungodly 5AM departure. Look, I'm a morning person, but come on! A couple of weeks before the trip I changed my routing, leaving later and going by way of EWR. So, yes, across the continent, but hey, lie-flat seats!
It was an uneventful flight. I had a tasty enough breakfast aboard
and then a cod cakes "lunch" before landing.
I dozed, read, listened to music, watched Cougar Town (my new favourite show). We landed, and I had over an hour in the lounge before the next flight.
A window seat on flight two meant that I was able to see outside as we left Newark
and then, an hour or so later, as we approached and landed in Toronto.
Ah, Lake America! I joke. Fuck that. Lake Ontario. Let's be real.
Getting through the airport and to the hotel was relatively smooth and as fast as it could reasonably be. I made it to my room,
dropped my bags, and headed to the hotel restaurant/bar for a basic dinner, a turkey and avocado BLT.
The sandwich was a sandwich, but the fries were good. The bartender, also named Peter, warmed up to me after I explained a Boulevardier
to him and chatted a little. Dinner done, I came upstairs to unpack and unwind and sip the glass of Baco Noir I'd brought up with me.
A long day of travel done, and so much to come for the weekend!
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