The day before (4Sept) flying off was stressful thanks to the bank blundering my name on my credit card (banks!!!) and of course they were in no rush to rectify things, so I spent much of the day on the phone with them instead of packing.
On the 5th Sept. - day of departure from Heathrow Airport, Karen kindly drove me to Gatwick Airport to catch a coach to Heathrow. The coach driver said " You nearly didn't make it", I showed attitude & stomped onto the coach, mornings aren't my best time of day.
On arrival at Heathrow Airport I was about to get another surprise (sometimes I like surprises, but not this time). The female Delta airlines attendant told me I had not completed the ESTA application (Visa Waiver). After completing the application I had to pay $14 but the credit card was being rejected on the ESTA website. I had no other card, no phone ( I left my phone with Karen) to call for help, I was sweating blood. I boldly walked up to the first kiosk and persuaded them to let me call Karen. With minutes to spare Karen did the necessary and I was on my way to JFK.
The flight was comfortable , except my seat was a tight fit, I know I'm a big guy but what happens to all those big Americans? Then the movie channel wasn't working and so the list went on, eventually Delta compensated by promising to send us $50 gift vouchers.
We arrived at JFK safe and sound but Customs were knee deep...in it, so much so it resulted me in finally missing my flight to Dulles in Washington D.C. . The next flight available flight was the following day, so they ended up giving me a flight 5 hours later to Ronald Reagan Airport, which was not where I planned to be, but I guess God had other ideas. As I sat there contemplating my naval I got into conversation with Tammy, a sweet Delta air hostess. I began sharing why I was there and suddenly I felt the presence of God, I knew it was a God appointment as she soaked up what I was saying. By the time I arrived in D.C. I was exhausted, I had gone without sleep for 23 hours, so I decided to be the REAL Terminal tenant (like Tom Hanks in the movie Terminal) , I found a nice little spot and was away with the fairies ( okay, I mean angels)
So as I was getting to sleep in the terminal I was awoken by a lady screaming Afrika Zuid,and saying something in Spanish (think she was swearing). I jumped up thinking she must have got hold of my passport,how did she know I was from South Africa???
To my relief as I scanned through her goods strewn all over 3 seats, non of my goods were there. I realised it was a demon that was speaking through her as she continued to scream and rant at me, mentioning South Africa every now and again.
I commanded the Spirit to be still and we can to chat in my scant Spanish, it turned out that she was from South America and had lived in the USA for 30 years,after undergoing a breast operation she was left destitute and was basically living in the Terminal.
On the 5th Sept. - day of departure from Heathrow Airport, Karen kindly drove me to Gatwick Airport to catch a coach to Heathrow. The coach driver said " You nearly didn't make it", I showed attitude & stomped onto the coach, mornings aren't my best time of day.
On arrival at Heathrow Airport I was about to get another surprise (sometimes I like surprises, but not this time). The female Delta airlines attendant told me I had not completed the ESTA application (Visa Waiver). After completing the application I had to pay $14 but the credit card was being rejected on the ESTA website. I had no other card, no phone ( I left my phone with Karen) to call for help, I was sweating blood. I boldly walked up to the first kiosk and persuaded them to let me call Karen. With minutes to spare Karen did the necessary and I was on my way to JFK.
The flight was comfortable , except my seat was a tight fit, I know I'm a big guy but what happens to all those big Americans? Then the movie channel wasn't working and so the list went on, eventually Delta compensated by promising to send us $50 gift vouchers.
We arrived at JFK safe and sound but Customs were knee deep...in it, so much so it resulted me in finally missing my flight to Dulles in Washington D.C. . The next flight available flight was the following day, so they ended up giving me a flight 5 hours later to Ronald Reagan Airport, which was not where I planned to be, but I guess God had other ideas. As I sat there contemplating my naval I got into conversation with Tammy, a sweet Delta air hostess. I began sharing why I was there and suddenly I felt the presence of God, I knew it was a God appointment as she soaked up what I was saying. By the time I arrived in D.C. I was exhausted, I had gone without sleep for 23 hours, so I decided to be the REAL Terminal tenant (like Tom Hanks in the movie Terminal) , I found a nice little spot and was away with the fairies ( okay, I mean angels)
So as I was getting to sleep in the terminal I was awoken by a lady screaming Afrika Zuid,and saying something in Spanish (think she was swearing). I jumped up thinking she must have got hold of my passport,how did she know I was from South Africa???
To my relief as I scanned through her goods strewn all over 3 seats, non of my goods were there. I realised it was a demon that was speaking through her as she continued to scream and rant at me, mentioning South Africa every now and again.
I commanded the Spirit to be still and we can to chat in my scant Spanish, it turned out that she was from South America and had lived in the USA for 30 years,after undergoing a breast operation she was left destitute and was basically living in the Terminal.
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