20 hours of travelling later, I am back home and I think I am going to DVT (die via travelling, or whatever it stands for). Frankly, just because you're flying a Japanese carrier and Japanese people are small that doesn't mean they can cram you into a 747 with sufficient legroom for a midget midget. Nor does it mean they can food poison you with their Japanese curry (and I'm telling you, throwing up in plane toilets in the middle of turbulence is possibly as pleasant as it sounds), nor does it mean they have the right to make the plane seats as hard as 2 planks of wood so that you can't sleep/vomit all over yourself comfortably.

But now I am landed and rested I have but 5 weeks until I jet off to the UK for University. Schmoozing, partying, reading my English book list (possibly as long as aforementioned jumbo jet) - ahh, isn't the summer great?

But back onto moaning and griping (for that is what I do best). As much as I love Americana, this visit has instilled in me a fear of Immigration Officers that could be potentially life changing. I've always thought Customs Officials/Immigration Officers/Security Checkers wield too much power (as proof - would you ever let a complete stranger pat you down and wave a magic wand over you? I think not) but after this trip all my nightmares have become reality. In fact, I'm too traumatised to write about it suffice to say that I feel very violated (thanks, security officers) and all that American kindness and hospitality you hear about does not apply when you are trying to pass through Immigration with your white family and Asian brother.