I'm a Rocket Person

(PICTURED: An impromptu drug store at Heathrow security.)

Ironic that after two months spent looking for myself in Europe - and finding a fair portion of an actual person - I arrive to confinement. The cast got to London's Heathrow airport yesterday, prepared to board a KLM flight to JFK, including a three-hour layover in Amsterdam. We gave ourselves a couple of hours to check all our baggage - the physical kind, since most of us will surely lug an emotional suitcase throughout our lives. Between personal luggage and that of the set and costumes, we checked 14 bags. Checking in as a group put us on the "Fast Track" security line, so after discarding our water bottles filled with liquid nitrogen, we strolled to the gate and waited to board. Foreshadow...

After about a half-hour, an announcement came over the PA system. It said that the flight to Amsterdam was on the fritz and a new craft would be ready in 5 hours. Not the best possible news. But soon came another announcement, summoning Andy Boroson(musician, Civilian, partridge connoisseur) to the help desk, where he was assured that we'd all be placed on a direct British Airways flight to JFK ASAP. This news made us happy. Even more comforting was that all of the Heathrow staff operated this transition with such patient, friendly competence. Foreshadow, foreshadow...

The flight itself was long, packed, and warm. And despite having individual screens on the back of each seat, the entertainment was poorly thought out. Rather than sitting in a digital library, itching to be selected - a la Jet Blue or HBO OnDemand - the film and TV options they presented ran in a dimly lit loop. Though I must say that the stream of free food & wine and lax attention to seatbelts gave the international flight a clubby feel.

We landed bumpily at JFK at around 8pm. The plane crawled along the tarmac for another half-hour before we finally de-planed. We trudged into the terminal and through Customs - each pretty quick trips - and headed to baggage claim. The shadow is now upon us...

I stood right against the carousel, hoping to yank off the company's luggage as soon as it came around. The belt rolled along, teasing me with abundant bags at every turn, including the most suspicious looking package ever - a cardboard box tearing at its edges with an ominous bulge, reigned in with dozens of bungee cords and a magic marker scrawl of Mohammad Rahman on its front. I saw it pass me four times before the PA system called Andy Boroson to British Airways Baggage Services.

Each of the 14 bags didn't make it to New York.

So now, due to a sublet snafu, I'm stuck waiting for this luggage delivery at my folks' place in the Bronx. My company is 2 deeply stupid dogs, 1 pair of boxers, and 3 cartons of ice cream. Dad says the ice cream helps him get to sleep.