Fuego it is...

Jeanette and I set off on another adventure on All Saints Day, 2002. This was to be a trip to the Canary Islands as well as our honeymoon. We picked the Canaries because I had been curious about them ever since elementary school history classes and because the ticket ended up being cheaper than tickets to Spain or Portugal. Go figure.

We left a frigid Denver day (17° F) hopefully for a nice mild Canary Islands vacation. We were picked up at the house by the Maui Wowi limo (Jeanette worked there at the time) and Day, the driver, got us to the airport with no problem. After walking out to terminal A at DIA, we had plenty of time so we went to terminal B where Jeanette wanted to go to a 'great' Mexican place for some lunch. Well, we found it and we found out how hot "fuego" really is. Don't try the orange salsa when they're out of the red! Jeanette had to get her burrito remade, while I tried to eat mine until the tears got to be too much. I chased the burrito with some trusty Tums and we went to terminal C to catch our flight.

Our first leg was uneventful, as was our layover in Dallas. We ended up sitting in the last row on the next flight, seated beside a guy named Jack. Jack was headed to London for three months to learn the insurance trade. We watched "Road to Perdition" (sad) and "Sex and Chocolate" (funny), ate lots of nuts, and tried to sleep.

We ended up with a long layover in Gatwick, waiting to head to TFS, and browsed all the stores in the place. I started our journal and we sat and watched the time.