Well, the repatriation process has begun. If you ask the Overseas Office, it's the counter-culture shock process, but whatever. I'm back in the good ole United States, and I will now regale you with the requisite airport/travel stories.
I planned to start getting my luggage out of my room in Beaumont at 7 a.m., and got a head start at 6:50 a.m. I had to turn the suitcases on their sides and slide them down the three flights of stairs. That took 30 minutes. I attached my rolling carry-on bag to one of my larger suitcases and roll the 200+ pounds of stuff down to the main dorm road, Westfield Way.
Let me just say that I have several planned routes via Tube and the Heathrow Express/Heathrow Connect to get to Heathrow by 9-ish. The one I went with was to take the District line to the Piccadilly line, which goes all the way to Heathrow.
By the time I got to Westfield Way, however, I was considering my last option -- calling a cab. I am no hulking giant of a girl, nor am I a waif, but 200+ pounds of rolling luggage plus a bookbag of laptop, binder full of notes and other fun accessories was already getting to me. I get the number of two licensed cab companies and call them. The first one is booked, and the second would cost me 45 pounds. No, thanks.
I turn in my keys and access card and make my way toward Mile End Road. By the time I got to Maynard, I decided to give the cab another try. This time, however, the second one was booked, too. So I have to continue to the Tube. There is no other way.
Getting to Mile End station was OK; I rolled the luggage down the stairs -- clop, clop, clop. I was the spectacle of the day. I buy a one-way ticket to Heathrow and go through the gates for Westbound District. I see on the board that District is severely delayed and immediately switch to Plan B: take Hammersmith & City to Paddington for Heathrow Express/Connect. But when I rolled down the stairs again -- clop, clop, clop -- there were two trains going to Richmond, so there was apparently no delay. I get on the first train, and a guy helped me with my second bag when the doors threaten to close on me.
I chose to get off at South Kensington because I knew I didn't need to go UP stairs to get to the Piccadilly, so I haul my luggage (by myself!) out of the train at South Kensington. I proceed to roll the whole disaster down the stairs, but my foot slipped, and I fall. People see this, and a guy helped carry one of the bags down, and another carried the other while I tried to help.
The second guy was also going to Heathrow, so the two of us carried my stuff down the escalators, another set of stairs and into the train. He was going to Thailand (some town, then Phuket) and Cambodia. He looked like Eric McCormack from "Will and Grace" with a skinnier face. I swear. Thankfully, at Heathrow, they have lifts, so we take that, making small talk about university, London/UK and Edinburgh, where apparently, he visits his ex, with whom he remains friends. We found a trolley, and we say good-byes and Merry Christmases. So, THANK YOU to the guy who helped me out "because that's what gentlemen should do" when I really, really needed it. I don't know how long it would've taken it me to get everything to Heathrow. Thank you again and again.
Heathrow went as well as can be expected. They didn't require you to take out your laptop at the security point, so that was cool. Apparently, at London airports, they don't tell you the gate until about 30 minutes before boarding, so you sit there and wait and shop at the Duty Free shops until your gate is listed. It's ingenius, really, and it also makes sure that the only people at that gate were the people who are on the same flight. Less hassle. Remember when I said they didn't require you to take out your laptop at the security check point? Well, they have a second check point at the gate, where they do a body search, an in-depth bag search, which included the laptop.
The light was OK, there were no really annoying people, but I really wish people wouldn't recline their seats. I know that it makes it more comfortable, but it's really hard to sleep on the tray when the reclining seat-back is in the way. The flight attendants were kinda negligent, too. The first time the beverage cart came, I was parched, so I was really excited. My neighbor got his orange juice, but the flight attendant got distracted by someone else and forgot to come back to me. So no apple juice.
When the lunch came, they also asked what I wanted to drink; I said apple juice. Well, the flight attendant who asked me was out of apple juice, so she asked someone else to pass her a can. She gave me a heaping cup of ice and said it'll be a minute. A minute turned into never. So no apple juice.
The snack cart came while I was in the lavatory, I think, so I also missed out on the snack box. Somehow, so did my seat neighbor. We both searched for a flight attendant. A nice one gave us each a snack box. Yay! A flight attendant service success.
Chicago O'Hare's immigration process was surprisingly fast and painless, but it was hassle to get from the international terminal to the domestic one. There were no clear directions for rechecking our bags, and after that, there were no clear directions for the trains to the domestic terminals. It was a mess. People weren't in line, just big jumbled mass of bags and trolleys .... ugh.
My flight gate got moved at O'Hare. A really pissed-off mother of three boys who's been waiting for 2 1/2 hours for a delayed flight was yelling loudly in the waiting lounge with her husband trying to calm her down. Annoying people making stupid small talk. Someone who thinks she knows about South Carolina blue laws but clearly not as well as she thinks. A cute Navy guy who was also going to Columbia. :)
But I am now repatriated. Both my arms hurt. A lot. I'm pretty sure my legs will follow. The wines in my carry-on survived the clopping down the stairs and all the abuse I've given it. My feet made it OK. I now know why I always wore flip-flops to airports, but London was way too cold for flip-flops this morning. Has it been this morning? It's been 24 hours since I left Beaumont; it's about 7:20 a.m. in London right now.
I miss London.
See? A perfect spot. Notice the flag in the middle is a colonial flag.
Rockapella!
Many people missed out on the confetti.
I love Keith Lockhart. Did you know that he got his undergrad at Furman in Greenville?
Another secret crush: broadcast journalism. gag. OK, so print also makes dumb mistakes. But we employ copy editors.
