Homeward Bound

It's true, we are homeward bound, and to be honest it couldn't have come at a better time. Although we have enjoyed ourselves immensely over the past four months in Europe, the constant wafting of Michael Buble's Christmas album from storefronts throughout England has us dreaming of a white Christmas surrounded by friends and family. 

We also seem to have picked up a dirty-hippie vibe somewhere along the line and regardless of how recently our clothes were laundered (a week ago), or how many days we have gone between showers (two), we can't seem to shake it. As a result, it's probably best that we head home, before we are denied access to some of the nicer public buses and grocery stores, we've already given up on sit-down restaurants. 

After an extensive root analysis, I think our hippie "charm" all comes back to the fact that we desperately need haircuts - so much so that the hairdressers may be my first stop once we get home. Don't believe me? Check out this before and after of Travis' hair. Where a proud man once stood, well groomed with military precision, now sits a dirty, confused, Italian-Stallion; I even saw him tuck his hair ever-so-lovingly behind his ear today, while reclining on a bench, one leg crossed over the other...

Before: So handsome and well groomed

After: He's hardly recognizable with those long locks (via)

Actual After: Just to clarify, Travis has not turned into Roberto Mancini

And since you are thinking it, yes we could have simply taken an hour and gone for a haircut. However I am too cheap to pay for anything other than a $20 chop at First Choice Hair-cutters and Travis is holding out until we get home for his Nonno to cut it (not because it has any special meaning to his Nonno, but because Travis has trust issues - and his Nonna normally slips him some secret cash and a piece of lasagna after the cut. Talk about double dipping).

Unfortunately, getting home from London isn't as easy as J.K. Rowling and those darn Harry Potter books make it look. Unable to acquire anymore floo powder (I used my last pinch picking up the dry cleaning last week), we are waiting patiently for the more conventional method of flying home. As a result, we are camping out at Gatwick Airport for the night before our nine hour flight to Las Vegas in the morning, where we will then have a seven hour layover, a two and a half hour flight to Vancouver, and a four to four hundred hour drive home depending on the weather conditions.

Cramped flights and uncomfortable sleeps aside, enduring these next two travel days is worth it simply for that feeling of being in our own beds. Also, we have to leave sometime, I'm pretty sure the United Kingdom doesn't want us staying here, especially in our current physical condition. 

To play fair: Travis isn't the only one who has seen better days