The Queen Called

The week before my departure from the United States was wild. I popped a tire, got sick, signed a lease for an apartment for my return, my beloved childhood dog died, had a job interview, watched my boyfriend graduate from Navy Bootcamp, and we got engaged the same day. So attempting to fit in a blog post before I left was a daunting task, so I left without posting.

But as an intro as to why I am going to be in London, I will say this: The Clash sing a song called “London Calling”… to a far away town, etc. etc. Even though the song is about World War I (or II?) it gets the point across that London is calling for people to come (and join the military). But at any rate, London calls me. The Queen phoned the other day and told me that she wants me to teach people about England’s history and tell all of the American children about England when I am a teacher. So I am going to do that. I am studying at Ohio State University, in Columbus, Ohio, and I am a history major and an English minor in my junior year. English history is my specialty and I could probably give just as good of a tour of the Tower of London as the Beefeaters themselves. At any rate, after my long long week of never ending excitement, I left Chicago with one red suitcase, a black leather bag, a Hurley backpack and a moose pillow pet (affectionately called “moose”).

I could not wait to get on my plane to London just to be able to sleep a full night! (I had only gotten 3 hours for the past 4 nights!) Unfortunately I could not sleep on my flight as I was seated next to two men speaking Russian very loudly the entire flight, and an Indian man snoring as loud as the jet engines. At last, we landed in Frankfurt, Germany. Landing in Germany and flying Lufthansa made for a great sense of nostalgia for my previous trip to Germany 3 years ago. I checked the boards for my connection flight’s gate, and started towards B28, carrying my moose pillow pet, a bag, and a backpack. Unfortunately that was not my flight, I looked at the incorrect departure time and flight number! So I check again. B47. Before I walk to my gate, I decided to change my clothes since I looked like a hobo in my sweat suit and loafers. I put on jeans and a cool green shirt. I walk across the airport looking for my gate, get there and realize my gate has “changed”. The man at the desk tells me it is now at B20, so I walk back across the airport, to B20, find it, and it is blocked off… So I give up, get some money exchanged, and have a bite to eat. I ordered a glass of water because I didn’t want to pay for a drink. Forgetting I was in Germany and water comes in bottles and is 3.40 euros… Ugh. My sandwich was good though. 

Upon my arrival at Heathrow I had a master plan to: get through customs, go pee, find my bag, get on the tube. I did all of the above except go pee, and by the time I got to my hotel, I had almost peed my pants.  After arriving at my hotel, I woke up at 8am the next morning. I walked outside, and there was a van there and the guy asked me if I needed a cab. I said yes, so he picked up my bag and drove me to my destination… for 13 freaking pounds!  And the cab did not have a fare meter in it so I was TOTALLY sketched out. I thought I was going to die and become another form of Taken. The Lord had mercy on me, and the guy took me to my school. Never again will that happen. Later that day I read that “If it isn’t a mini cab, its just some stranger’s car”. I almost died again. The terror. 

My roommates are cool so far! I am glad for it. Emily is from Alabama and Elena is from Boston. We have a three person (obviously) dorm room, with our own bathroom! I am so happy for the own bathroom thing, it makes life easier. 

Tonight we have a floor meeting then we are going to a pub. I am excited to meet people, but more excited for tomorrow to find a mattress pad for this brutal bed.