Good morning, old sports. I just finished watching Great Gatsby with my mom. I thought I'd try out Gatsby's catch phrase since it made him extremely wealthy and popular, but I'm not Leonardo DiCaprio, so I have a feeling I can't pull it off. Gatsby also dies alone at the end so I'm not entirely sure I want to emulate him anyway. I've now given away at least three endings to shows and movies in this blog. I'm kind of an asshole.
Since it's past midnight it's officially the day of my departure. 1:40pm from Buffalo. I have a huge layover in Chicago, which I sort of don't mind. I almost always have massive layovers when I travel and I find them oddly calming. It's one of the few times in life where you don't have to justify your laziness because there's nothing to do. I like to sleep with my sunglasses and baseball cap on. I like to think I'm tricking people with that outfit, but obviously everyone knows you're sleeping and they don't care.
Anyway, I'm very sad to be leaving Canada because once again I think it's a great place and I love all my family and friends. On the other hand, I'm so excited to be going to England. Despite the fact that I have a zombiesque look to me from the lack of sleep and constant nausea, I'm actually feeling pretty good. I'm fairly certain I'll get lost when I first arrive because no matter how hard I try to follow directions I always manage to get lost, but I've got all day to figure it out so it doesn't matter. Once I arrive where I'm staying I have to promptly message my family because they're convinced I'll be dead within an hour of arriving in London. After that I'll likely pass out and sleep until someone's poking me with a stick to check whether or not I'm dead. Then I'll eat some dinosours and begin my adventure......
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