We are in London!

I’ve said before how terrified I am of flying and how nuts it makes me, but the flight over her was extremely stress free. I was using my new carry-on , so I was able to fit all of my stuff in there and do away with any ghetto grocery bags.

Also, instead of a crazy, panicy security line, we somehow ended up in this slow paced, zen security room. The room was small, the TSA explaining how to do everything was really calm, and the employees were really friendly! I even heard one of the employees responding to a talkative customer with, “thank you so much for that helpful information, you have a nice day” and smiled.

The difference between past airport security experiences and this one was like that episode of Seinfeld where Elaine gets stuck in coach and Jerry gets to be in first class. Jerry has a much better deal.

Another stroke of luck was that on the plane to London we were sitting smack in the middle. It was a huge plane, and thanks to not seeing windows, a viewing of “The A Team”, and many episodes of “Monk” (which I am now Netflixing every season because I now love that show), I forgot about plummeting into the ocean! Yay!

Things were looking up (literally, hehe)!

We landed and went straight to the immigration control line. It was long and winding but was moving fast, and we were in high spirits. An old lady came up close to where we were in line, with plenty of people behind us, and I could tell she was going to try and cut. I get anxious when people try to cut, so I kept a close eye on her. I was torn between not caring if she cut because she was an old lady, and not wanting her to get in front of me (she was older, but not like 100—she was quite capable).  Just as the elderly cutter tried to make her move, a girl in front of us was like “the beginning of the line is back there”. And the woman played the “I’m an old lady and I’m confused” card by going “Huuuuh? Waaaaah?” after which she deftly found an unsuspecting bunch of ladies behind us not paying attention, and she cut right in.

But we were in London! Who cared!

We got up to the immigration counter. On accident they told us to go to the wrong counter and we had to wait again, but we were all jolly and laughing.

And then we got our immigration officer.

For anyone who hasn’t done this, like me, you wait in line, and then when you get to the front of the line someone points out a podium with an immigration officer there. There are a whole bunch of them right next to each other.

I don’t think she liked us from the start. I had put “TBD” on “address you are staying at” on the landing card. She kind of told me a thousand times in a Jamaican accent that “TBD” was not an address… which I knew… but whatever, she’s just doing her job.

Then she asked us where our return itinerary was.

And we didn’t have it.

We told her that we didn’t print it out, etc., and she kept being really condescending, and saying “so you were absent minded” and “you weren’t thinking” and “did you look up what you were supposed to do when you came here?”  and “do you know what we have to go through when we come to your country?”. She kept going and going and going. She seemed to hate us, which I’m okay with, but I didn’t know what to say. We had established that we didn’t have the return itinerary, and she kept asking us why. All I could think was “If we don’t produce our return itinerary out of thin air right now, she is going to make us fly back to America!!!”

And then I felt myself want to cry.

First I was like “no I won’t cry”, and then I was about to lose it. And then thirteen hours on a combination of airplanes mixed with three hours sleep in the last day took its toll and I lost it. I started crying.

That’s when it took a whole nuther turn. She was like “you don’t have to cry” (but like, not nice, just like “stop crying”), which made Justin notice I was crying, which made him get loud and ask for a supervisor, which made the employee next to her get defensive and say “I was a witness” (which she ended up saying so many times I forgot whether I was in church or an airport) “and I didn’t hear anything that should have made her cry!”, which made me feel stupid.

So the supervisor came and Justin told her what the deal was and the supervisor cleared it all up, apologized and told our immigration officer to finish up with us and just before leaving she whispered that she would like to speak with her later.

A passport has never been stamped so hard. I think it probably left indentations on her podium.

It did not ruin our entry into London though. Mainly because we were so tired it felt like we were on drugs, so what just had happened just rolled off our backs. (Just to be clear, I have never done drugs, I’m just assuming that is kind of what it might feel like.)

After a long and sleep-drug train ride we got to our stop. Before heading to our hotel we stopped at Starbucks (where we got an awesome Starbucks card with the U.K. flag on it, seen above). We were SO TIRED.  We talked about taking a nap once we got to the hotel, but we didn’t want to lose any time here.

After Starbucks we headed to the hotel. It’s super cute. It’s kind of small, but like, really tidy. We tried to get online but their internet is down. I needed to send an e-mail to my parents letting them know I’m okay and not kidnapped like in the movie “Taken”, because as my mom says, my dad would not be able to save me like Liam Neason. Also, Justin wouldn’t let me get kidnapped.

So back to Starbucks.

Our sanity was slipping because of lack of sleep. But we did not want to take a nap.

We set up in SB. I was successfully able to send out an e-mail and check my Facebook, but for some reason when I handed the computer to Justin, the internet went out.

That did it. We were like “what???” And Justin pretty much thought the internet was out to get just him, taking its powers away right when he needed it most. Our reaction to the internet not being available proved to us we needed to rest, so we headed back to the hotel.

It was the best nap I ever had.

Being almost totally recharged we headed out for dinner!

Here’s a pic of Justin just outside our hotel.

On the way to dinner, ugh, I dropped my camera. It actually ended up being fine (yes, 100% fine Mom), but I was freaking out. I was so upset, I wanted to cry. Luckily Justin checked it out and it was working perfectly (yay!!!).

So on to dinner. We didn’t really know where to go, but we totally lucked out and ate at this great Italian place. The food was so good and the waitress even hugged me as I was ordering. I can’t remember why. I got garlic-butter-and-basil-stuffed fried chicken, very good, and Justin got a flattened breaded chicken. And then we split tiramisu. We loved it.

Outside the restaurant we got this photo.  Justin insisted I turn this into a “see if you can spot” photo so… see if you can spot all the “English” things in this photo.

In this pic you can see our hotel way in the background. And by the way, I found the Muffin Man.  Apparently he doesn’t live on Drury Lane, he lives on Wrights Lane.