I'm in Texas! Hurrah! However, far more exciting than that, is the fact that having posted the message below yesterday, I got up from the computer, walked around the corner, and there, sitting in one of the comfy armchairs, amongst the other clubhouse virgins, was none other than Alison, formerly of Big Brother, and now of Celebrity Fit Club. I stared at her for a while, she stared back in that "oh my god, there's a nutter looking at me" kind of way, I considered chatting her up, but in the end I decided that if I only had 20 minutes until my flight, I really ought to be eating more free food, and not wasting my time talking to celebrities. So I headed for the smoothie cabinet instead. I kept an eye on Alison though, in case she started eating the danish pastries, and I'd be forced to report her to Dale Winton and that scary sergeant major guy with the big lips.
Anyhoo. The 8 hour flight to Washington featured more binge eating on my part, whilst watching 'School of Rock' on my little TV, and listening to The Darkness, in between watching episodes of The Office and Will & Grace, and trying to fall asleep to Alan Partridge. My free on-board massage was cancelled due to lack of time. I was not a happy bunny. Despite being placated with a priority voucher ensuring me the first massage on the return flight.
At Washington, the friendly immigration guy told us to watch out in Texas for men in pick-up trucks with gun racks on the back. So that was nice.
We wandered around Washington airport, I ate my first bona fide American hamburger (disappointing), and we chatted to a grumpy man on the United Airlines desk, who'd clearly been off sick the day they'd done the lesson on customer service. Then we had a 3 hour flight to Dallas in economy, which was a bit of a culture shock. No free facials and cream teas there.
An hour long car journey later, with Sandy the taxi driver, who grew up in Death Valley and once went down the Grand Canyon on a donkey (it's details like that which bring this story alive), and we arrived at Big Sis's house, the interior of which is remarkably similar to the Osbournes'. Only with fewer crucifixes and pets. I'm not sure how much blackmailing my sister had to do to persuade her employers to pay for this place, but she clearly has a talent for negotiation. And I told her so, as I relaxed by the jacuzzi with gold plated taps.
It's 12:30pm now, and almost lunchtime. It's approaching 20 minutes since I last ate, so we're off out to buy more food.