London, land of the CCTV

The flight over to London was uneventful, other than the fact that someone somewhere took mercy on my knees, and upgraded me to United's Economy "Plus". Although it is the most dastardly form of price discrimination ever, the extra three inches of leg room were a life saver for my aging frame. I watched "SuperBad" during the in-flight entertainment segment, and have to admit that the movie was hilarious even though I was watching it on a tiny screen with sound that went in and out the whole time.

Memories of London from my six-month stay here when I was eight years old started coming back to me as my brother-in-law drove me to his place from the airport. The same narrow lanes, the same rows of houses huddling together, the same driving on the wrong side of the road. My sister lives north of the city in Greater London, and her house is in a quiet cul-de-sac shared by three other houses. My arrival here soon caused commotion though, as I hugged my sister (who I hadn't seen in two years), and came upon my nine month old nephew (who I had never seen). I'm still trying to figure out how his facial muscles are able to support his cheeks and lower lip all on their own:


Most of the rest of the day was spent sleeping off the jet lag, eating lunch, sleeping off some more jet lag, and then venturing into the city with my family. We headed over to St. Christoper's square for some Lebanese dining, and I was completely taken aback by the number of CCTV cameras everywhere. One corner had FIVE cameras pointed in every direction. Can you even imagine something like that in the US, where people complain about privacy issues with red-light traffic cameras? Kaleem, my brother-in-law, told me that on average, one is photographed THIRTY FIVE times between stepping out of their house in a suburb and getting to work in downtown London. THIRTY FIVE!

I'm going to have to make sure I drop my nose-picking habit while I'm here.