SURFING SOAPBOX:Planes, trains and surfboards

I find myself swamped by herds of people running around like chickens with their heads cut off in the London airport.

I arrived Wedneday morning from the Canaries at 3 a.m., jumped on a train at 6 a.m. and headed to Birmingham.

The weather today is frozen with ice, in sharp contrast to the Island of Tennifre where I just spent 11 days surfing my brains out and sightseeing like a kid in a candy store for the first time.

My day has been one mad dash from one place to another and I honestly cannot wait to get on my flight home, since I haven’t really slept in nearly two days.

That said, every moment of the freakish stress that comes along with surf travel and the hauling of surfboards has been more than worth it.

Actually, the last two weeks have been a surfer’s dream and I look forward to getting home and giving you the full scoop on my trip and the adventures that took place.

Right now, though, they are making a last call for my flight, which stops in Detroit before finally arriving in LAX tonight at 11 p.m.

So I gotta run and hope all is well with the family I call Laguna.

Peace.