The term degenerate has many definitions but these two every definitions applies to the word here:
•having lost the physical, mental, or moral qualities considered normal and desirable; showing evidence of decline
•lacking some property, order, or...
Nine whole hours later and finally we made it to London. It was 4am here in London and I was wide-awake since I took a long ass nap on that plane trip. I turned my phone on and it seemed to be having an Annabelle induced seizure because there was about a million texts and calls all from her; did she not know the plane ride was 9 hours? I swore I told her. My phone was still having a seizure so placing it in my back pocket was out of question seeing as how I didn't need a butt massage at the moment, instead I placed it in my carry-on realizing that my iPad must be receiving all these messages as well. Fucking Annabelle.
"Why were you even with her honestly?" Harley had been staying quiet for most of the time so I couldn't exactly complain.
"I'm not exactly sure if I'm being honest, probably just because she was hot," I shrugged and Harley looked slightly annoyed but gestured for me to go on with my story.
They slowly let us get off the plane and we made our way through the terminal. The cart or anything wasn't necessary since it was 4 am and the airport was extremely dead so I made my way to baggage claim and customs.
I put my hoodie up just in case and kept my head down for the most part especially anytime I came close to a group of people. Luckily for me I walked right on through straight through baggage claim and was able to retrieve my bags effortlessly. I only brought one bag not including my carry-on figuring that it would be enough and if not I would just buy more clothes or have Annabelle send me some more from home.
The airport here was very different from the one back home and all of the food stops here seemed new to me and I was beginning to get hungry. I needed something to eat. I needed it now, but I couldn't decide if I should eat here or once I was out of the airport. Like a sign from god however my phone started to ring. I was going to dismiss it since I thought it was part of the seizure but it kept on ringing so looking at my phone it turned out to be my driver. Food in the streets of London it is. I continued my way through the airport up and down, left and right, this airport was huge and I think I was lost because there was no way that this same pillar with the same poster was in the airport 5 times. Directionally challenged? Yes I am.
Regardless though I refused to pick up a map and kept making more turns here and there and finally a red EXIT sign was hanging from the roof with a little arrow pointing straight. I followed through and finally made my way through the automatic sliding doors that revealed the black Range Rover that was waiting for me, with my driver waiting outside the door.
"Good Morning Mr. Danvers how was your flight?"
"Very nice, I think I took the best nap of the century Gaston," he laughed lightly as he took my bags and opened up the door for me so that I can slide in. I waited patiently as he packed the bags in the back and decided to check my phone that had about a thousand messages.
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