London

A few weeks ago Steve, Emily, Kevin, Joe, Stacey and myself went to London for a long weekend.
Travel and Day 1:

At 10p.m. Wednesday night we shoved our backpacks in Rory’s Eurovan and drove into Galway. My excited hands shook with the jitter of the engine echoing its energy. Seeing my motherland in Ireland helped me understand a lot about my culture and home town. Maybe the evil step mother empire who birthed the 13 colonies could help me understand my homeland too.
Before hitting the midnight bus to the Dublin Airport we hit up Super Macs for a quick gut rotting bite to eat.

Then we hauled it to the bus stop and started on our journey. Within seconds into our adventure everything almost crumbled apart in front of us. The bus driver told us our tickets were valid for the next day. Stacey looked at him and argued about how it was tomorrow. I guy told us the system won’t accept them. WHAT!?! In one second all six of us almost jumped this guy and hi-jacked the bus. Then he told us, “Well, just because you have the wrong date… Did you think I’d strand you here? Sit down and I’ll ring you up in a couple minutes when the clock switches over.”

Here we sat expecting a 4hr. bus ride. Turns out it takes less than 3hrs. in the middle of the night with no traffic or stops.

At 3a.m. we sat in the airport watching the wall pretending it was a clock.

I special ordered a cold milk at the coffee shop. I experienced my fist ice cold skimmed milk since September 7th when I left! I knew this was a good sign. I also walked passed my first drinking fountain in Ireland while moving through the airport. I wondered if they had showers with hot water and kitchens with dish washing machines. Maybe the local McDonalds had free refills. No, I wasn’t in America, just in an airport.

After boarding the plane I looked outside, waved goodbye to the land of saints and scholars (and sinners more recently added by a bus-driver commenting on the gangs in Cork and Limerick). I shut my eyes before takeoff to catch some Zs and angrily woke up to a bumpy start, but soon my anger turned into happiness when I realized the bumps were signs of a landing. I slept through the takeoff and turbulence to awake to a rough landing.

Before even getting out the door of the airport our trip got thrilling. We walked off the plane and started walking towards customs when Stacey noticed her passport was missing. She figured she left it on the plane. While she started freaking out I tried to be rational and scurried back to the place to ask a flight attendant. By the time I got back to the plane everyone already left.

We decided to confront the customs official. He pushed Kevin, Steve, Emily, Joe, and me through customs and left Stacey on the other side. Due to pre-organized agreements between Britain and Ireland no passport is needed to get into the country. So we waited on the other side of security for Stacey. We waited. Then we waited more. After that we waited again a little more. After almost a whole hour we started getting frustrated and worried. We went to the airline’s lost and found office and asked security to call her name over the loud speaker. So the name Stacey Jessen rang over the PA throughout the airport.

After a couple minutes of waiting for her to come to the info desk like directed over the loud speaker she showed up with an Aer Lingus employee and her face down and tears falling. She said with tears and emotion, “I thought you left without me.?!?!” We all wanted to be like well usually you check the last place you left the group of people before you assume that… Then again who could expect her to find us if she can’t find her own passport.

After two hours of fretting we hit up the mass transit for a 20£ journey on a train from Gatwick Airport into the inner city London. From there we transferred onto the Tube (the subway) and took the District Line from the Victoria stop to the Stamford Brook stop. There we finally settled into our hostel at the Globetrotters Inn after hours of buses, planes, trains, and walking.

After getting a quick hour nap we hit the streets of London for some excitement. Turns out the pubs in London don’t compare to the Irish ones. Three main differences: the service was much better, the food much worse, and the people less talkative. I played it safe and order a chicken sandwich with bacon, lettuce, and tomato. The first bite was reassuring. The seasoned meat, fresh lettuce, and crispy bacon smothered in mayonnaise went down easy. Then I bit a little closer to the center and realized it needed a couple more minutes in the microwave on defrost. Maybe my comment about how exciting ice was to see in my water glass inspired them to keep the chicken frozen in the middle of my sandwich. To me it was like a warhead candy. It lures you in with sweetness and then tricks you with disgustingness.

After our meal we hit up the Tube, got off in the theater area, and went on the prowl for Wicked tickets. Steve, like a real tourist, went to the first shop in sight and let a salesman instill fear in this soul. Steve frantically explained to us how the tickets available might not be there if we don’t act now and the discount ticket booth wouldn’t go any lower than 26£! His excitement made me nervous and I asked him to calm down. Joe and I bickered with him that there will be more booths outside of the Tube station for us to buy tickets from. With every fighting word out of my mouth Steve got sicker to his stomach. Then he started to tell Joe and me, if he passes this up because of us it’s our fault. We told him to buy the ticket then and Joe and I would hold out. Steve convinced Stacey to buy one with him and the rest of us held out.

With Steve’s tickets in hand, he (and the rest of us) walked up the stairs out of the Tube station on onto the street littered with booths bragging “Half Price Theater Tickets” and “Discount Theater Tickets Starting at 15£” and “The Lowest Priced Theater Tickets Around”, etc. The more booths I saw the more the feeling of victory pumped through my veins.

After approaching a couple booths and haggling them DOWN to 26£ I got a little less cocky and started to think to myself what I should do with my free night in London.

Steve and Stacey split and started their trek to the theater. The rest of us shopped around and realized the price wasn’t getting any lower than 26£.

Being stubborn Joe and I refused to buy a ticket at that price and convinced everyone the price was too high and better prices were out there. We headed towards the theater ourselves and banked on the official ticket booth having lower prices.

Before you know it I entered the play with the feeling of a 20£ ticket in one hand, the 6£s I saved in the other, and the cushion of victory patting my ass as I sat down. Suddenly, I noticed Steve and Stacey 6 rows behind us and gave them a wave and shout out.

Spending all my energy on proving someone wrong I fell asleep multiple times during the play. Don’t get me wrong, it was the most magical performance I’ve ever seen. The smoke, the sound effects, the stage, the costumes, and the singing blew my mind. I started to get the impression movie theaters didn’t last too long here.

Half asleep, but with a buzzed feeling from the performance, we Tubed it back to the hostel and passed out for the night.