3 days of soup, sex and sun salutations [H.S]

1. High flyin' bird

"God bless America!" Tom whisper-shouts as he joins Harry and Lizzie on the way to the café at Heathrow Airport.

They had been travelling all day and had finally arrived at the international airport of London. Lizzie is tired and in need of a coffee, Tom has a bit too much energy for his own good and Harry is feeling clammy and anxious. Was this how it was supposed to feel before a flight? He didn't know. The furthest he'd flown before was from the swing down to the grass of their park at home. He tries to comfort Lizzie, who is rubbing at her temples to ease her headache, but he can't really focus. Besides, his hands keep getting damp with sweat and he has to dry them off on his blue jeans every five seconds.

As they get to the café, the chatter of the people around them calms Harry a bit. Lizzie orders a coffee while Harry and Tom have a coke each. The waitress has such a strong London accent that Harry has to ask her to repeat herself as she takes their order, to which Tom sniggers in his hand. Harry is really not in the mood for this, and he gives Tom an irritated look as the waitress leaves them.

They sit, sipping their drinks, not saying much, all of them a bit nervous for the flight, and for a completely new country. They had been saving up all of their last pennies, working all the jobs they could manage, barely spending anything except for the absolutely necessary (which, in Harry's case, of course was the scarf he could put around his head. That was absolutely necessary). It had been a long year, but they had managed.

The plan had not always been to go to Woodstock. They had been talking about London, about Brighton, and of Paris. It was only when Tom heard about the festival on the radio, that he came bicycling into Harry's house with widespread eyes, declaring: "There's a festival in New York. Janis Joplin and Hendrix are playing". And that was it. Of course, it took a bit of research to find out that Jefferson Airplane was also on the way there, and it took another fair bit of convincing for Lizzie to come ("As if I'm gonna spend three days in a tent with you wankers"), but they made it. The three of them are on the way to the land of freedom, flares and flower crowns.

"Flight 325 to John F Kennedy Airport is starting boarding within the next fifteen minutes", it is announced from the speakers, making all of them jump.

Lizzie squeezes Harry's arm as she gets up, swallowing the last of her coffee in one go. She smiles reassuringly towards him, apparently in a better mood than twenty minutes earlier.

"C'mon then, boys", she says.

Harry and Tom scramble up at the same time, Tom fixing his hat and Harry drying his hands on his jeans. They find the board with the flights and Harry scans all the numbers and destinations until he finds it: JFK, 16.15, gate 31.

As they walk towards the gate, Harry starts to feel more and more lightheaded. Is something wrong with him? Is he about to get ill? He tries to shake off the feeling but it stays, making the pit of his stomach churn. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the sound of Lizzie's heels against the hard floor. Relax, breathe, relax, he repeats to himself.

"Y'alright, H?" Tom asks, for once not in that annoying tone of his, but genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, 'm just a bit nervous I think..." Harry says.

"You do look a bit pale, mate", Tom continues and then smiles. "It'll be fine, we're just boarding and then you'll forget about it, yeah?"

Harry just nods, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. They pass the stewardess in the gate, getting a stamp each on their passport, and off they go into the aircraft. They are placed just beside the wing, thankfully not on the emergency exit row, and Harry is offered the window by his friends, which he is thankful for.