A few hiccups. Alexis' flight got cancelled at the last minute (cue Mom Siren), but she got on a different plane to L.A. and was transferred on a direct flight to London. My flight was delayed an hour, but despite the head flight attendant blaming us for any further potential delays ("We're given a time slot by air traffic control, and if passengers can't be ready in time, we might get pushed out of line." What a loser.), I made it to Heathrow. I'm sitting here waiting on Alexis, trying to figure out how to alter our "meet you at your arriving gate" plan. Tip: don't make plans regarding airports you know nothing about.
So, hiccups. But nothing Mielke's can't handle.
Perhaps it's time to mention to readers who either don't know me or don't talk to me what drove me to this trip. To get it, you have to understand a little something called Breakfast at the World Cup.
Back in the summer of 2002, the World Cup was being staged in Japan and Korea. It was the first time two nations had co-hosted the event. More importantly, it was the first summer that any of my friends had driver's licenses. And for a group that would organize a party for the BurlingtonCoatFactory.com Bowl, the World Cup was a perfect excuse to meet multiple times per week for sporting events, while still maintaining our summer jobs and summer school grade point averages. Because of the time difference, games were accompanied by either a late dinner or, as proved more popular, an 5am Breakfast at the World Cup.
The U.S. performed extraordinarily well that year, defeating Portugal to advance to the knockout rounds, spanking archrival Mexico, and could have well landed in the semi-finals were it not for Torsten Frings' infamous handball that blocked an American shot on the goal line in the Round of Eight.
Anyway, we were hooked. We spent our mornings in 2006 making traditional German Farmer's Breakfasts and using fun words like Bundesliga, Bundespost, and Stuttgart. I had a few college friends in Berlin at the time, and they said the atmosphere was out of control. So when ABC's announcers said they would next see us in South Africa, we instantaneously decided -- you bet your ass you'll see us in South Africa.
We bought the game tickets last February. Instead of paying cash for tickets, Alexis and I jacked our parents' credit card miles (thanks, Mom and Dad!), and booked the flights the maximum 330 days prior to departure. We booked a safari in November, we started asking South African friends about places to stay in December, and I read A Traveler's History of South Africa over Christmas. I mean, money's one thing -- but when I start reading, stuff gets serious. So 4 years of talking, 2 years of planning...and we're here. Well, close. We're in London. At least...I'm in London. Crap. I better look for Alexis.
