London Town

Getting to London is no fun. Being in London is fabulous.

Here is the story of my journey to London. I will try to just tell it as factually as possible without letting my feelings of bitter resentment get in the way.

I am packing in a rush to leave for the airport, when we realize my suitcase is completely falling apart, so I spend the ride to the airport in the back seat switching all my stuff to a different suitcase. I got rather car sick in the process.

We get to the airport in record time. One of my bags is only 36 lbs (leaving plenty of room to shop, of course). I grab a cinnabon, then sit at the gate. We are supposed to be boarding, but instead we get the announcement that the captain is missing. "We are pretty sure he is in the airport. He may be in the air, but we think he is in the airport." Ok, no big deal, it is 3:15 and my flight in detroit is not until 6:55.

The captain shows up and we board the plane. Then, we deboard. Mechanical difficulties of some sort. Luckily, there is an identical plane just one gate over. So, we board that plane. This process took about an hour, I don't know why. As it turned out, the plane was identical to the former in all aspects, including the mechanical difficulties. The minutes tick by, while every 5 minutes the crew is telling us they will let us know what is happening in about 5 minutes. At this point, everybody was on the phone about their missed connections. It is now about 5:45. I am on the phone with my dear friend, Arianna, who had bought me McDonalds and was asking the lady at the gate what the chances were of me making the flight. The woman told her there were several people on my flight who were trying to catch the flight to London so they could wait until 7, which was when my flight was supposed to get in.

My mother is on the phone, first telling me to get off the flight because she didn't think I was going to make it. Then, she says it doesn't look like there is another flight to London for the next 2 days, from Cincinnati or Detroit. So my only hope is staying on the plane and trying to catch the flight.

I did nothing but pray and wrinkle my empty cup up in my hands over and over again during the flight. We don't arrive in Detroit until 7:20. Arianna doesn't pick up her phone, the flight had already taken off. It turns out, it left at 6:48.

I have never missed a flight before in my life (despite a few recent close calls). So, I follow everyone else and get in line at the service desk to find a new connection. I talk to the first person, who says my best option is staying in a hotel in Detroit that night and catching a flight to Amsterdam the next night, then London after that. I then talk to someone on the help phones who says the same thing.

My parents are making calls and getting no further than I am

. The line dies down, so I get back in line to talk to a different person to see if I can fly home to Cincinnati that night instead. That seemed better than 24 hours in a Detroit hotel room. I continued to have a very incoherent conversation with the woman, who gave me the flight to Cincinnati, but wouldn't tell me if I could get back to Detroit for the flight to Amsterdam, and told me I had to talk to people on the phones. I told my mom what she had said, and she told me to stay on the phone go talk to her again. So, I approach the desk, and here is the gist of the conversation ( I believe her name was Deborah Anne):

DA- "What?"

Me-"Hi, if I go back to Cincinnati, what are my options of getting to London from there?"

DA-"Well is there a direct flight from Cincinnati to London?"

Me-"I'm not sure, if there is I think it is full."

DA- looking stuff up... "Oh, there is a flight that leaves Cincinnati tomorrow night and gets into London the next morning, connecting in Boston."

Me-"That sounds great!"

DA- says nothing, is doing stuff on her computer...

My mother on the phone-"So are you on the flight?"

Me-"I'm not sure, I think so"

DA-"Oh, I booked you on the flight. When I said it was an option, I booked you."

Me-"Oh, great, thank you."

DA-"Why didn't you just book that flight in the first place?"

Me-"Because I was trying to get there by tomorrow morning."

DA-"You just can't do that with these European flights."

Me- In state of confusion.

a few minutes later...

DA-"You are in London for a month?"

Me-"Three months"

DA-"What are you going to do without your mommy there to solve all your problems?"

Me- Jaw dropped and speechless.

At this point I don't even remember the rest of the conversation. All I could think about was staying polite, and escaping this woman as fast as possibly with my tickets.

The plane back to Cincinnati was delayed, because, as the captain explained, they had been delayed all day...

I get home, and leave the next day for Boston. I make it to London without a hitch that time. When I talk to the guy in the customs line, he asks me the basic questions, then asks me how much money I have with me. Then he asks me how much I have for the 3 months I am there. I tell him about what is in my checking account, and he sneers and says,"Do you know how expensive this country is?" I assure him that I will be ok, I have already paid for my lodging and food. He then asks, "Who supports you?" "My parents." He sneers again and mumbles, "Figures." "I worked over the summer and made money." He doesn't respond and hands me back my passport. A lady on my flight walks away next to me and says, "Wow, it sounded like you got the third degree!"

I know.

I talk to a friendly irish lady I sat near on the plane while I wait for my bags that I know won't be there. Then I report it to the delta desk, and they inform me my bags are on a flight to Amsterdam at the moment and will be getting in around 2 that afternoon. They will deliver them later that day.

Great, at least this way I don't have to haul them to the centre.

I make it to the centre in a daze at this point. It is wednesday afternoon. I don't see my bags until late thursday night. At least I filled out a form that gave me a voucher for my checked baggage fee, so I won't have to pay that on my way home.

Now I have my bags, and am living in London. Life is good. The girls here are great, the directors are so nice, and this city is fabulous. Our assignments are things like, go to a park and watch something there for half an hour. Write about it and sketch it. You have the rest of the day to explore the city. Ok, I can do that.

My only complaint at the moment would be the food in the center. The cook is a very nice woman who likes to experiment. This was dinner tonight...

It is a good thing we can have gelato and chocolate croissants basically anywhere else we go :)

Life Lesson:

I have seen the whole experience as a good life experience, and I learned that while being nice and polite to people won't necessarily get you what you want, but it will make you feel better about the way you acted. Also, the lady did get nicer by the end of our conversation. I can only image what could have happened if I had snapped back at her. For some reason, I found my self wanting to be even nicer to all the people I came in contact with at the airport afterwards. That is still a phenomenon I do not understand.

I am sure my next post will have a much better ratio between the positive and negative vibes. I am sorry for this one.