And away we go.
It never really occurred to me how many people would be involved in getting me to Europe.
See, my Mom sprung for a hotel room at BWI so I could make my 4:00AM gate time (thank you priceline) and I greatly appreciated that. The shuttle driver was the first person to help, getting me to the terminal so early the ticket agents hadn't arrived yet.
Through security and to the gate, all a pleasant journey. No problems until some blessed person noticed the plane had a flat tire. (and this not until we were boarding. I'd still like to thank them)
Ticket agents again, sending me to Reagan Intl in rush hour in Washington DC. I've never experienced anything like watching the minutes to my new flight tick off while I'm getting no closer to the airport.
But I make it, booking through Reagan and climbing on the plane just in time. Arrive Newark, book to the gate where they've been holding the 767 to Gatwick. How kind of them. (although I could've passed on the lecture about promptness)
The plane ride was a breeze, spacious and only one squawling infant. Right through Gatwick and customs, and a kindly agent at the train station explained to me the cheapest way to my chosen hostel. (which I probably should've made reservations at but the Fate's were with me, obviously)
I zip through the tube and arrive just in time for today to become tomorrow. Still, the let me in and I waltz into a room ready to collapse.
Now, I've had a traditional English breakfast, complete with kippers and eggs and some sausage that burns. Yum.
As travel goes, I think I was born under a good star. Trust me, I was.
London it is. Bring it on.
Last Updated on December 3, 2018 by Dave Lee