London...just when I finally thought I had travelling DOWN.

London. Well, let’s just say this weekend was hectic. This was by far the craziest of my traveling experiences. Here’s the story…(settle in, it’s long):
Piya, Kat, and I made plans to go to London like 3 weeks ago. Piya said “we can all stay with my uncle! It will be so fun!!! Yesss London!” so we reserved our tickets. And thus begins all of the problems that occurred with this trip.
Problem 1: A week later, Piya informs me that actually, only 2 people can stay with her uncle…so could I please find someone else to say with? I drop an email to Max to see if I can stay with him, and Max is great. Max says yes, by all means! Come! I’m excited! My excitement for the trip mounts again. I let another friend know I will be in town and we make plans around his girlfriend’s arrival, Saturday morning. Slight dilemma arises when Max lets me know his best friend in the world, Gus, will be in town as well but he’s not staying with him so it’s fine. He just won’t be as free. This is fine.
Problem 2: We purchased our tickets for the “Bologna Forli” airport. Bologna is an hour away by train, NO problem. Well, we mention this to Giuliana, who proceeds to flip out and tell us Forli is WAY more than an hour away, actually by the coast on the OTHER side of Italy (this turns out to be false…she tends to overreact). I do some research and find out we can go to the Forli train station and take a bus from there. Now, this includes another hour on the train and then 20 minutes on the bus…but…we’d already ordered our tickets and it was totally no big deal. Right? Right.

Last Friday Arrives! We are SO excited! Everyone wishes us bon voyage as we head back to Antella to pick up our bags. This is the plan: once we arrive in London, Piya’s uncle will pick up Kat and Piya. I, on the other hand, must take public transportation from Stanstead (waaaaaaay the hell outside of town) into Liverpool Street and then catch the Tube to Russell Square, where Max lives. Perfect! I even know what line to take because that’s where my HOSTEL was this summer! So stoked! So…I find out the tube closes earlier than I thought. No problem, I say to myself. I will take the train from Stanstead instead of the bus…it is much more expensive, but faster! I will get there in time before the Tube closes! NO sweat.

4:00pm Friday: We leave Antella.
4:45: Arrive at Florence train station.
5:14: train to Bologna
6:07: arrive Bologna, switch trains to Forli.
7:15: arrive Forli. Loiter in sketchy train station and use nasty toilets (i.e. hole in ground, no toilet paper)
8:00: bus to airport.
8:20: arrive airport. Realize our 9:45 flight is delaaaayed a half hour.
10:15: supposed NEW departure time. Actual departure time: 10:45.
Ok, I think to myself. I can handle this. There is no way I’ll make it before the Tube closes but I’ll take a taxi! I’ve got the directions to Max’s flat…but I don’t have his number. I emailed him before leaving and told him just to call me if it got ungodly late and I had not yet arrived. Everything is still going swimmingly.
12:15: arrival in London Stanstead.
12:30: I catch a bus to Liverpool, deciding to opt for the longer/cheaper route since there’s no hurry. Shortly after buying my bus ticket, I realize it is, in fact, the same price as the train ticket and I could’ve gotten there a full hour faster. Pissed, I get on the bus and place irate phone calls to my parents and Kelly. No one is available to complain to. I leave angry messages. In the midst of attempting to call Daniel (who may have Max’s phone number), my phone sends me a lovely message: you have no more money on your phone. Aka, your phone is now virtually useless. I had JUST put more money on before leaving…so I am rather upset…but whatever, I will top it up tomorrow, I tell myself.
2:00: after a long bus ride, I arrive at Liverpool. Wander around, wondering if I can take a bus rather than a taxi. Realize I need cash. Go find an ATM. Attempt to catch a cab without waiting in the long ass line at Liverpool, but eventually give up and resign myself to my fate. In the line, I hear a couple behind me saying they are going to Russell Square. We agree to share the cab fare. In the cab, they speak Italian. Whoa! They are Italian! I am excited! Yes! We chat. I am queen of the world! I can do no wrong. Look at me, paying less for this cab fare than I would’ve for the Tube! I am speaking Italian! I am getting out of the cab.
2:30am The street is deserted and I’m not exactly where I want to be…I am slightly creeped out…but lo! There is the pub that Max described in his directions. Yes! Colonade Street. Now all I need is 9. On the right. Blue door. Hey! There is a blue door!...pleaseletitbenumber9…..annnnd it’s 29. Oook. Maybe Max mistyped. I push the buttons at the door. There are no lights within. No one is coming. I feel like these plastic buttons are really cheap and should be replaced with more durable buttons, buttons that make you feel like there is a response to the fact that you pushed it. I start getting nervous. I knock. I kick. I beat on the door. There is no response. Ok! Maybe 9 really does exist, but further down the street. How many blue doors can there BE?? I walk down the street. Suddenly, the doors are no longer numbered…but LETTERED. B, C, D, and E appear on my right. I retreat (because let’s face it, the street was scary and dark) and beat on 29 some more…hm…maybe I can get Daniel now. I try my phone. It is still dead. I go to the phone booth around the corner. Desparate, I use my credit card (and probably spent $1000000000000 on the call) to get to Daniel, hoping he has Max’s number. “Hey, it’s Daniel, but I guess you knew that…” greets my ears. Crap. Literally, the primary thing happening in my head right now is shitshitshitshitshit. I am freaked out. I am in the middle of London in the middle of the night and I have no idea what to do. Suddenly…I make a decision. I am doing it. I call Kyle, another friend. He picks up with a groggy hello and, with little preamble, I say “soooo, can I come over?” I get a cab and another $1000000000000000000000 later I am at 14 Queens Gate Road, and there is Kyle, just sittin around in his PJs.
3:00-4:00 Kyle and I chat.
4:00: we decide to sleep.
4:15. His phone rings. “hiii Kyle…it’s your girlfriend…calling from America……..” I hear tinnily over the phone. She has misseed her flight. She will not arrive until 11pm the following night.
….sometime during the night…..We hear a girl in the hall say “Hey, Lucy’s going crazy or something…she’s running through the streets naked.” Kyle (an RA, may I add?) does not move, though I know he hears.
…..also during the night….the elevator, every 2.5 seconds, feels the need to explain to the passenger where they are going. This lovely woman, in a lovely British accent, will say “Doors closing. Elevator, 4th floor, going down. Going up!” etc. until I want to kill all people who speak with a British accent just because they remind me of the elevator. Going up!
8:45am. Kyle receives a call from a fellow RA. Lucy, it turns out, has had a (possibly drug induced) psychotic break. (this was just local color, it doesn’t really pertain to the story)
Saturday, morning, afternoon. Kyle and I hang out, shop, he registers for classes, we go to the National Portrait gallery with the tickets he had reserved for himself and Jessica. Max had called earlier in the day (apparently my phone could receive calls. But only his, because other people were trying to reach me during the weekend and could not. Hm.) I use Kyle’s phone and figure out Max and I will attempt to meet in Leicester Square. At a restaurant that I don’t know where it is. But it’s ok! I will FIND it! I leave Kyle’s. It is raining. I don’t know where I’m going. I have no way of getting in touch with anyone should I not find the place that I don’t know the location of. But it’s ok! By some large miracle, Max et al. had exited their restaurant and were JUST across the street from the Tube stop when I arrived. Max’s face glowed like a beacon of hope and justice in the crowded London street. I was going to be ok! We go to a pub and have a lot of fun, except for the part where I spill a pint of Strongbow all over a. my jeans (aka my only pants for the weekend) b. my bag of books I had bought because OH MY GOSH A BOOKSTORE WITH MORE THAN 10 BOOKS IN ENGLISH!!!! and c. my bookbag. With all of my stuff in it. For the whole weekend. Max and a few friends go to another bar but I retire with his 3 roommates. I go to sleep on the loveseat with no blanket or pillow (but I found the flat, goddamnit…and yep, it was after the lettered apartments, for anyone who was interested) on the loveseat where I can’t stretch out my legs…but it’s ok! I am sleeping. I am happy.
Sunday: Canterbury. Much fun and laughter. I actually really enjoyed myself. The cathedral was beautiful and the boy’s choir was lovely. We went to morning mass and then Gus and I returned for Evensong while the others went to a pub (go figure). I also enjoyed some sausages and mash…a big highlight for me.
Sunday night, 7:30: I am scheduled to sleep at Piya’s uncle’s house this night so he can drive us to the airport at the butt crack of dawn in the morning. I call Piya and she informs me that I can’t come til at least 10:30 since they have dinner plans. We decide that I will be at the Uxbridge tube stop (the eennnnnd of the line, on a Sunday night when the tube is very infrequent and unreliable) at 10:30. She calls again and tells me to go Southhall instead ("it's on the same line, just get off earlier, ok?"). Around 9:30, I glance at the Underground map. I find Uxbridge…and look for Southhall…and can’t find it. And Max looks. And Max’s roommate looks. And we look in the Index of Tube Stops. And it doesn’t exist. I attempt to get in touch with Piya with no luck. Well. I decide to go to South Harrow instead, which is on the same line but just a bit before Uxbridge. Great! I am there. It is 10:30. I call her uncle’s cell (because hers doesn’t work EITHER) from a pay phone and “We’re at Southhall…where are YOU!?!?! FINE. JUST GO TO UXBRIDGE.” So I’m waiting for the Sunday-night-unreliable-Tube and finally, an hour later, I am at Uxbridge. And around 12:30, I get to bed.

So here is Monday:
4:30: awake.
…many modes of transportation later, it is 1:50 and I arrive in Florence. We have class at 2:15 but we have not eaten anything, basically. I require coffee, and so does Piya. We decide to be 5 minutes late to class and run into a coffeeshop. I ask for 2 caffe lattes to go, but he only hears “latte” and gives us two cups of hot milk. Umm…Piya says let’s just go but I’ll be damned if one more godforsaken thing goes wrong on this trip. I demand coffee. We get it. We are late for class.
Immediately following class, I get on a train for Lucca (1.5 hrs away, to visit Carl, a family friend) have dinner, wander around town, etc. and leave at 9, arrive Florence 10:30, bus to Antella 10:40, and…arrive at home (thanks be to Jesus). Seeing Carl was really fun, it was nice to get to share the craziness of my weekend and laugh about it instead of being stressed about it. All in all…..INSANE. I had a blast, but you couldn’t pay me to do it again.