September 1, 2009
5:43 AM
Location: Heathrow Airport
I left Boston what feels like ages ago, but really was only 30
hours ago. Flying out was a catastrophe because the travel agent cancelled my tickets without telling me, but it all worked out and I arrived yesterday morning at 5:15 AM in London!
Adventure 1 overseas: I collected my baggage from the Terminal 5 Baggage Claim and started hauling it through the five terminal airport connected by a series of trains. The navigational challenges associated with two bags that weigh approximately 600 pounds combined included getting my things on and off the escalator because at Heathrow they have little gates at the bottom and top of the escalators that are only wide enough for a thin suitcase. My ingenious maneuvering solution: push one suitcase in front and drag the other one behind. Result: Success! (usually). Unfortunately the trains had these same gates. Other than that, though, pretty smooth sailing getting my things through the airport. The trains were awesome, and the doors opened only after a “open doors” button was pushed, which I obviously loved. Anyway, I eventually arrived at Terminal four, guided by a series of useless maps printed out by Daddyo, and found my destination (for four hours): Yotel. It is all it’s made out to be
: a 5’ x 5’ room with a bed cubby, a tv, a fold out table with outlets that didn’t fit my plugs, 2 mirrors, a toilet, a sink, a shower and a door. All the lights were weird colors (sort of a purplish
hew) and the alarm clock was a weird white box without any buttons. Needless to say, it was probably the best 3 hour nap I’ve ever had. I was sad to leave the odd club-like lighting that illuminated the hallways, but I had a 10:30 meeting with Sydney back at Terminal 5.
British Adventure 2: After I met Sydney, we both made our way to the Underground Piccadilly line armed with two tube day passes, our 4 wheelie bags and two backpacks. Despite my genius maneuvers through the gates, it was all for nothing when Sydney arrived because her bag was wider than mine. After several pushes and shoves though, she made it happen. We got our first glimpses of London as the train climbed out of the underground tunnel and cruised above ground for about 15 stops. Everything was more mini than in the US. I liked that. At Piccadilly Circus we changed lines and thus encountered major navigational issue two of the day: Steep staircases with 1200 pounds of baggage. I’ve been doing Steroids, though, so I picked one bag up with each finger on my right hand and carried an old lady up the stairs with my other hand. It was a productive day. In actuality, we had to accept help from a girl who generously offered to carry not one, but two of our bags up the staircase, thus leaving Sydney and I both carrying less than our new friend/servant. We were thrilled to see a lift when we finally arrived at Lambeth North, the closest tube stop to our Hostel. Unfortunately, the adventure didn’t end there, as Sydney’s bag got wedged going through the gate (similar to those at the T in Boston) at our station, and caused a bit of a backup at the exit. Eventually a kind, and freakishly strong woman swiped her card for Sydney, thus releasing the gate’s grips from Sydney’s stuck back and lifted it with one hand through to its eagerly awaiting owner. We had arrived!
Our day revolved around walking, trying to avoid massive crowds of tourists along the Thames River, and searching for a good lunch spot. Along the way we saw: Big Ben, House of Parliament, Westminster Abby, a protest, sassy seagulls, the hugest ferris wheel ever (called the London eye), the river, 4 women doing an Indian dance and teaching it to a crowd of enthusiastic students (some of whom did NOT have that much to be enthusiastic about, when it came to dancing), the London Nautical University, Duchy Street, and about a million closed restaurants. As we got hungrier and hungrier, we became increasingly unable to find a restaurant that was open. Eventually we came upon a lovely café and found out that Monday, August 31 was a Bank holiday (one of several throughout the year), so nothing was really open, or would be open late. After being rejuvenated we went over to Kensington Gardens, which was lovely, and eventually made our way back home on the Tube (a very easy, well designed system that only lacks one thing: AC. I was drenched by the time we arrived back at our hostel).
British Adventure 3: After my flight fiasco, my flight to Granada was changed, meaning I would arrive there at 5:10 and Sydney at around 1. Her flight left London at 6:20. Mine: 9:30. On Monday night we started to arrange our trip to the airport so as to arrive there at 4:30 AM, hopefully not more than 5 pounds in the hole. It seemed at first that there was no way to make the 18-mile journey from Waterloo to Heathrow at 4 in the morning via public transport. Eventually, with the help of the hostel receptionist/bar tender who was Australian, but whom I thought was English, we found a couple options. All of them involved taking one of the many night buses that run through London from 1 am through 5 or 6 or whenever the regular day buses start running. They are really great because they run all the regular routes at pretty regular intervals. The route we were to take left from a stop just up the road, involved one bus change a couple miles away, and then a short walk through the airport when we arrived. It would take us about an hour and a half, but at least it would be cheap and adventurous. Sydney set her alarm for 2:50 AM, and after some weird snack foods for dinner, a quick magic trick session, and several minutes of “coaster flip” (a great new game that I can play when I’m bored at the restaurant when I’m 7 years old) we headed to bed. We woke up a couple hours later and despite some struggles at the front desk involving a group of women who were trying to sneak a lesbian lover into their dorm room for free, made it out of the Hostel by 3:15, just enough time to catch the buses and make it to the airport by 5. Unfortunately, all did not go according to plan, and even though I stood in the street clearly looking at the rumbling double-decker as it hurtled towards me, it went flying by and continued up the road. We swore for a few minutes, hailed a lone taxi, and split a 66 pound cab fare to the airport, arriving promptly at 4 AM. No navigational conundrums were involved, thank god.
And now, at 6:27 AM London time, I sit in Costa coffee with an empty bottle of orange juice, a book I don’t want to read for fear that I’ll fall asleep sitting up in the public coffee shop after reading a page or two, and 1,000 pounds of luggage. Despite the struggles, everything worked out, though, and by 5 PM I should be in Granada, headed to meet Sydney at hostel number 2. I don’t think I’d feel so calm in America.
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