Lava + Ice = Fear + Longing in London

As a rule, I don't watch disaster flicks on long flights. To me, being inside a metal tube high in the air while breathing recycled air and continuously fed insipid pseudo-food, is like carrying around a can of highly flammable vaporized liquid in my right hand. Adding a bad disaster flick (of the type of, say, "2012" or "I am Legend") is like holding a lighted match in the left hand. Bring the two together, and the combination is explosive. No thanks...I'd rather watch "The Men Who Stare at Goats" or "Sherlock Holmes".

Ironical, then, that I should find myself in London last weekend. The volcanic eruption of Iceland had just taken place, and the entire European airspace shut down for an unspecified period of time. Here I was, alone on a crowded island, with no means of escape, and no way of getting to my lovely wife and adorable kids. No idea when I would see them next. Maybe next week, maybe next month, maybe next year...

"This is how it was in '2012'," Mojo said helpfully, "all we have to wait for is a large earthquake in California". Oh No! I thought. Not California!!! My family is out there. They don't know where the disaster recovery kit is in the garage. They will need less drinking water (since I'm not home), but cellphones won't work in that case, and the water mains will need to be closed along with the gas valve...The frenzied imagination of a troubled mind continued late into the night. I slept very little that entire week, worrying incessantly about worst cases, and praying for an escape route to get back home. Being amongst friends was hardly a consolation, let alone being with friends who wished to share their fore-knowledge of forthcoming disasters.

I will write a series of posts about the time I spent in London agonizing about the life I once had, and the meaning and impact of this incarceration. For now, treat this as a starter post...