No, this is not a Lost commentary, though I’ve done my fair share of those in the past. This is a post about that other famous “Smokey”, the bringer of mass-transportation Gotterdammerung, Iceland’s Mount Eyjafjallajökull. I flew into London the day after the big ash-cloud flight ban was lifted earlier this month, and escaped a few hours after another shorter ban was instituted earlier yesterday. You could say I narrowly escaped the wrath of Smokey.  

Had my plane not been able to take off yesterday, Smokey might have imprisoned me in a parallel universe of sorts, known as Great Britain. They speak English over there, too (surprise!), food is pretty similar (good, contrary to popular belief), the political discourse is vibrant (Hope, Change, etc.), and the entertainment is pretty amazing. As Vincent Vega says, they got the same shit there as they got here, but there it’s just a little different. For example, I ate “American-style” Italian food. I watched the BBC versions of Jackass/Tom Greene Show (“Balls of Steel”), Jerry Springer, Sally Jesse, and Jay Leno.  Everything is a little different, except, like Desmond, Simon Cowell is ubiquitous and common to both universes.  A constant, if you will.

Anyway, I managed to defeat Smokey, leave sideways world, and come back home.  You would think that would be a happy ending.  But then I watched last Tuesday’s Lost episode, “Across the Sea” on DVR.  Based on the content of that episode, which creates a strong presumption of an inevitably disappointing finale, I wish Simon Cowell could make me a donkey wheel that could bring me back to 2004 so I could not have gotten so invested in the show.

P.S.  Sorry, I lied about this NOT being a Lost commentary.  I didn’t intend it to be.  I promise all that other stuff is absolutely true.  I have my receipt from London’s “Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese” as proof.

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