Week 8 this quarter I got a phone call from Dad. He said, "Hey Bon, I'm going to London tomorrow, want to come?" Of course since it was a weekend trip I elected to go. So that Friday morning I headed out to Charlotte, NC where I met my Dad and boarded the plane for London. The plane itself was gigantic; probably about 10 times the size of my apartment. First class was full (like I care, I mean I am going to London after all), but i managed to snag a window seat in the 15th row. Naturally I didn't sleep during the flight, and when we landed I was dazed to say the least.
I managed to make it through customs, although I did receive many a strange look from the guards ("What do you mean you don't know the address of where you're staying?" ... "Well, Sir, I'm flying with the captain of the light crew, and I have no idea where we're staying. He didn't tell me!" ... "So let me get this straight... you flew 7 hours to stay here for a day, and then you're flying 7 hours back home?" ... "Err, yes? Is that a problem, Sir?" ... "Enjoy your stay." Oh and he didn't smile once. It was pretty intimidating.)
Luckily, the hotel was attached to the airport, so it would have taken us a grand total of 5 minutes to get in and out, however with both Dad and I fighting a losing battle with exhaustion, we decided to take a quick power nap (an hour) before heading out to the city. I woke up excited and energized, (HELLO, I'M IN LONDON!!!) and we left in a hurry to go watch the changing of the guards.
Now, apparently we were there on a national holiday (and a Saturday I might add) so going to see the changing of the guards was an experience I imagine to be similar to getting packed into a sardine container. Although... all the sardines around me were from different countries and speaking different languages - so I guess it was a variety pack of sardines. And while I didn't get to see the most of it, I did manage to hear the british (female) cop on horseback yell at me for touching the palace gate, and then mutter something resembling "damn americans" under her breath. I felt loved.
Eventually, we walked away from the palace and just started meandering around the city. We ended up on Bond Street, the 5th avenue of London. Not too far from there, we found Brown's Hotel, the spot where both Roosevelt's stayed for their honeymoon getaways, and where Dad made our high tea reservation. I couldn't believe it... high tea at Brown's Hotel... and then we walked inside, and my jaw dropped. It was simply gorgeous. Granted, I have a thing for beautiful hotels, but this just made me giddy. Soft window light, fireplaces, old fashioned parlor seats and tables that had little feet that turned out at the bottom, lace tablecloths and a smell that was refreshing, warm and just plain made me want to stay there. Perhaps my returning exhaustion was the real reason I wanted to stay there, but nevertheless, when Dad insisted it was time to leave, I took my time in order to savor every last second.
The rest of the day we spent walking around the town. We saw some guards and I took ridiculous-American-tourist snap shots with several of them. We witnessed a wedding in a courtyard, took a ride in a taxi (it reminded me of a hearse... black and surprisingly spacious inside with NO seat-belts), saw the largest bird I've ever seen - I'm positive it could have eaten me for dinner, experienced the night life in Piccadilly Circus, found as many hot chocolate joints as humanly possible (it was chilly!), split a pint with Dad and finally walked back through it all to find the train in order to return home. I nearly fell asleep on the train... I'm glad I managed to wait until I got into bed. And to be honest... that was the best night's sleep I've ever experienced.
The next day I flew home and I was back in class on Monday morning. It was as if the entire weekend had never happened. Was it all in my head? Well, Dad was there... and he insists we really took that trip. And I suppose my other proof is my passport, which now sports a London, England stamp dated November 2009. How cool.
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