Post Cards from the Fake Liz Strauss (written by the real one)
I figure if Dan Lyons can write the fake Steve Jobs, I can do one better . . . I’m writing these post cards before I go on the UK trip with Ann Michael. Consider it a fictional account of real people we might have met, real places we might have visited, and real things that did or didn’t happen as told by the fake myself. Some things actually might have occurred. Like I said, I’m writing this before we go. –Liz
Hi, Everyone!
We’ve landed safely at about 11:00 a.m. London time and we’re exhausted. should have slept on the flight coming over, but we both worked, and worked, and worked instead.
With an 8-hour flight and a captive audience like that, we couldn’t pass up a chance to put on an impromptu seminar on blogging. By the end of the week, the blogosphere should grow by another hundred blogs.
Then there was the incredible paper work that comes with changing the world. . . .
The 80-mile foot trek through Heathrow to the passport station was relatively uneventful — if you don’t count the girl, dog, scarecrow, tin man, and lion who walked alongside us on our way there. (They said they were headed to meet an important man in a small town called OZ. I didn’t know that was in England. . . .)
At the passport checkpoint, the man asked why we came. We said we were bloggers attending a conference. I think he heard “floggers,” because he said to encourage our friends to give the poor sods a break if we could.
We had chartered a special private train into the city, complete with private staff and a three-course meal, for only us and our baggage. It didn’t come so we took the same train as everyone else.
The ride in was smooth, except for the jolting ride part.
Our hotel is the most expensive hotel in all of Europe — you could call it a castle. I’ve heard that some people do. More on that later. We’re out the door for lunch with Karin H. . . . YEA!
Yours truly,
The Fake Liz Strauss
PS We spent the night knitting sweaters for poor children in Siberia.
