Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

Honestly, I enjoy the traveling part of traveling. 

            I know that might sound strange because “duh you like traveling if you’re spending your summer in London.” But I really enjoy the hopping in the car, hopping on the plane, hopping on the train, sitting, standing, lugging, waiting part of traveling.  Now don’t get me wrong.  I’m super impatient, and I don’t particularly enjoy lugging my 65 pound bag and 25 pound backpack up three flights of stairs and down a half mile on a cobblestone sidewalk to my dorm for the aching feeling it gives me afterward.  However, I love this part of traveling because I feel like you can get some of the funniest memories out of it.

            My travels started easily as my parents kissed me goodbye, made sure I had everything I needed, and helped me load my unreasonably heavy bag and backpack into Jack’s car.  Jack and I listened to music and enjoyed spending time together before we parted ways for the summer on our way to the airport.  I honestly didn’t feel nervous and thought that I had everything perfectly packed and ready to go.  I was wrong.  My suitcase that today I’ve coined “That Big Purple Monster” was 15 pounds overweight, and there was no turning back.   I don’t know what I packed, but I somehow managed to bring 90 pounds to the airport without a second thought.  After repacking and reorganizing, we had to give up, and Jack finally let me put the backpack onto my back.  I felt like at any moment I would fall backwards like a turtle and miss my flight, but I managed to move forward and laugh as Jack quoted Dumb and Dumber, "I hate goodbyes!" and watched me move toward security. 

After our great day together and before the backpack that will be sure to be give me a chronic hunch.

      My time in the airport went by quickly, and I enjoyed getting to connect with the other students in our group.  Carson, my roommate and a good friend from English Ed, Scott, Caroline, and I all managed to group up for dinner at the Asian place in the International terminal.  We all, by coincidence I’m sure, seemed to get fortunes telling us about how our travels will be magical and awesome and whatever, but this didn’t seem super funny to me until after our flight.  We boarded our plane around 8:45 and were scheduled to leave at 9:30.  Well, around 10:30 our plane finally flies out of Atlanta with the news that our in-flight entertainment would not be available.  Everyone looked like kids whose candy had been taken away from them (myself included), and we were forced to resort to more primitive ways of entertainment like reading or talking to the person next to you.  I sat by Chandler, another member of our study abroad group, and we enjoyed people watching and commenting on different aspects of the night.  There are few things funnier than watching a person try to sleep sitting upright and attempt not to disturb the person sitting next to them.

Chandler was so sweet during the flight. So glad I got to sit next to you!

    After a couple hours of sleep, we arrived in London around noon and headed toward baggage claim: The moment I had been dreading.  I managed to get That Big Purple Monster off the conveyer belt without too much fuss, but when we headed toward the train, I knew I was going to have a problem.  Panting, sweating, trying to keep my cool, we approach a flight of stairs leading to the top of our final tube stop.  Whimpering on the inside, I manage to drag my bag up the stairs with the twenty-ish other girls in my group, banging the bottom of the bag on the stairs and causing a royally obnoxious racquet.  We screamed American.  We screamed tourist. And we were proud.  But mostly, we were so tired we didn’t care.

Our Fortress of Baggitude. Sitting and waiting. That Big Purple Monster in the front right. 

Train ticket to another train.

      The last stretch was the worst.  I managed to train That Big Purple Monster to roll beside me, but London sidewalks are old and tricky.  After a couple blocks of smooth sailing, we began to hit patches of cobblestone and Big Purple seemed to flip over with a mind of her own.  I felt like I was dragging a disobedient child to time out.  Finally, we arrive at Regent’s College, and it’s absolutely beautiful.  Carson says we’re on the first floor of our dorm, and I’m giddy with the prospect of not having to lug my suitcase of the stairs.  However, the giddiness is short-lived with the realization that Ground Floor is really first floor and first floor is really second floor.  Needless to say, my exercise is covered for the next six weeks.

Patrick, Haleigh, and Cara enjoying their picnic at Regent's Park.

The Crane that would not leave us alone.

Carson, Scott, Caroline, and their friend, The Crane.

Giving us the stink eye.

Look at these flowers, y'all! I live here! Regent's College is in the middle of Regent's Park in the heart of London.

   We spent the rest of evening exploring our neighborhood on Baker’s Street (home to Sherlock Holmes for all you Sherlock fans out there).  We got go phones, went to the pharmacy, and grabbed a bite to eat in Regent’s Park.  I’ve only been here twelve hours, and I’m beginning to feel like a real London student.

            Sorry for the terribly long post, but I get long-winded when I’m excited.  I hope you’re having a lovely day! 

Everyone except Scott on our outing this afternoon.