Luuuun-done!

After all the hugs and kisses and generally making a sentimental fool of myself, I was finally off to London. Only one obstacle remained in my way, looming before me like some specter of doom. Suspicious looking men prowled around me, brandishing their weapons and sizing me up. I prepared for the worst as I entered airport security, sure that they could do their worst but that I could pass through unscathed, clinging to my dream of boarding a plane bound for Europe. As I stepped towards the metal detector, I removed my backpack. The guy at the counter looked at me, slightly amused and said “Laptop?” I took my laptop out. “Camera?” I removed my camera. “Shoes?” Off came the shoes. “Pockets?” I emptied them on command. “Belt?” …….. OH COME ON! This was getting ridiculous. Honestly, I think the guy was just having a good time. That job probably gets just a smidge boring and sometimes he chooses poor, hapless college students to torments. Twisted.

I survived security fairly well. I’ve actually been surprised so far that it’s been quite easy to get in and out of airports and train stations. I think, six years later, the transit people have finally gotten the hang of tighter security.

Interesting side note: I saw Dan Albright in the airport, dressed up in his pilot stuff and heading off to copilot…we talked a bit.

I met up with one of the girls in our little group, Kimberlee Sirstins, in the SLC airport and we flew all the way to London together. We met the other girl, Ellen Lloyd, in Cincinnati during our layover. I spent nearly the entire flight stuffing Mom’s homemade cookies in my face. Let me tell you about disgusting airplane food. The “dinner” they served was most certainly the nastiest pile of poo I’ve ever tasted. I stuck each of the dishes in my mouth and nearly gagged each time. Stunning. I still shudder at the thought.

We arrived in London at about 8:45 on Saturday morning. We were to meet our final group member, Andrew Frick, there when his flight at 9:15. And wouldn’t you know, his flight was late! So, of course, we wait. The board says 10:05. Then 10:20. Finally, at 10:45, the plane arrives. We look anxiously for Andrew to emerge. And wait. And wait some more. He rolled out of the baggage area at about 12:30. Unbelievable! Turns out the planes were so backlogged from a storm in New York that it was taking everyone 2 hours to get their baggage. So, in essence, we spent a happy 3.5 hours sitting in the airport in London. What better way could you possibly spend your hard-earned time in England? Thrill of a lifetime! We were looking for a way to page him over the intercom of find where he was, but the information desk was inexplicably closed for a loooong brunch and noone seemed to know why. Everyone we asked anything to responded with “ask the information desk” and when I told them it was vacant, they’d say “well, someone should open that up!” assertively. Of course, nothing ever happened. Well done, information people!

I’m convinced airports hate me.

It’s a conspiracy.

The coolest things I’ve seen in Europe so far are the hand dryers in the men’s bathroom of Gatwick airport. Words don’t suffice to describe, but be assured that they are the pinnacle of human engineering. They actually dry your hands. Quickly.

Andrew managed to lose one of his bags immediately upon arrival in the metro station. We’re standing in line and we here his name called out over the intercom. I was certain we’d gotten busted for unknowingly smuggling some illicit materials into England, but it turned out that he’d just walked off without a bag. Whoops! We got through the line for metro tickets and placed our order and voila! Our credit cards don’t work. Why? Turns out, as we were later told by an attendant, that the machine “doesn’t like our type of cards”. We inquired into the “type” of our cards and were met by a blank stare. (Maybe it doesn’t like Yankee plastic?)

Finally, we arrived at our hotel at 3:00 PM. We checked into the cozy little establishment and lo and behold, cozy is certainly the apt describing word. The rooms are roughly 347 times smaller than the pictures on the website. Apparently the English have mastered adobe photoshop to a degree far beyond our own skill. The rooms were clean enough had functioning locks and came with and had fresh towels. What more could you want for 90 bucks a night? More, you say? Well, maybe you haven’t been to London. I’ll let you in on a little secret.

London is absurdly expensive.

Wow.

Basically take all prices in the US, replace the dollar sign with a pound sign and multiply what you thought the cost was time 2.09. That’ll about do it. Reasonably cheap dinner? 25 bucks. One-way metro pass? 8 dollah. Pitifully tiny water bottle? 3-4 buckaroos. I’ll be broke in a matter of a week.

(Speaking of small, everything here in Europe seems to come in 2 sizes: “small” and “rationed out for the London blitz”. No wonder there aren’t any fat people in London. Nothing to eat!)

When we came out of the tube we were right next to Big Ben and we had our “holy crud, we’re actually in London!” moment. There we were, in front of the actual big ben. Not a post card, not a movie, the real thing.

We had the opportunity to visit the British Library. Not a real big tourist attraction, but easily one of the best in my mind. They have originals of some farly famous documents like, oh, the magna carta. You know, obscure stuff. They also had originals from Shakespeare, Chaucer (eat your heart out, Marty), Jane Austen, Leonardo Da Vinci, Rachmaninoff, Mozart, Darwin and tons more famous people. Oh, and a great religious section highlighted by an original Gutenberg Bible and several copies of the Qu’ran from a loooong time ago.

Andrew is a real fim/theater freak, so he convinced our group to attend a musical in the theater section of London, Picadilly. We decided on Spamalot, an award-winning musical based on Monty Python. After wandering around, we saw a discount ticket booth and Andrew rushed over to buy some tickets. They had two left at 25 pounds and promised that we could go to the theater and that they would give us a few more (“the last ones available”) for this great price. Oh, but right before Andrew and Ellen bought, the tickets magically went up to 30 pounds apiece. I was a bit suspicious of our over-zealous and slightly creepy ticket-selling friends, to say the least. Anyhow, we found a really good Italian place and grabbed some dinner before heading up for the concert…

Dinner: Rigatoni in a Marscapone, Tarragon, Red Onion and Pecorinno sauce. The stuff of dreams.

…when we arrived at the concert, I found it distressing but oddly hilarious that we’d been had. There were plenty of tickets left for the show at the full price of 22.50. Andrew and Ellen were given a wonderful “discount” of an extra 15 bucks! Hahahahahaha….I don’t know why it strikes me as funny but it is. Probably because I didn’t get ripped for 15 big ones. Anyway, that’ll teach you to be rushed into a sale with seedy people that change their prices, eh? Hahahaha…

Anyhow, Spamalot exceeded my expectations and ended up being freakin’ hilarious. Very funny, incorporating all of the highlights of Monty Python. I think it was particularly good here in London because of the genuine accents and british humor. Oh, and the large teeth. That helps.

Thoughts on London so far: I absolutely LOVE it. The city is clean, the people are fairly nice, the british girls are far better looking than generally reported. The architecture is amazing, the candy bars fantastic and the slightly cool and very light drizzle a nice change from surface-of-the-sun Provo. Many more adventures await!

(I’m writing this a few days later, so it’s not exactly current events. Hopefully I’ll catch up sometime.)