LONDON
Before I left for break Peter, Cathrine, Alex and I went to London on the 10th through the 12th. It was great again. For any Harry Potter fans out there, Peter and I were staying in a hostel that was right next to King's Cross and we actually went to platform 9 3/4... see?
I was QUITE excited about that little excursion. We also went shopping at Oxford Square which turned out to be quite an adventure since it was only a couple weeks before xmas. Then on one of the nights we went to a really legitimate English pub that was full of locals and it was an experience to say the least. Let me preface this story by saying that there was no dancefloor in this pub. It was basically like Tombstones or something... but in England. So we're sitting up in our chairs at a table by the window and this middle-aged, nerdy guy wearing those double-bridge glasses and sweatpants gets up and starts doing the most hilarious dance I've ever seen. It wasn't even really like a dance, it was more like he just pointed his fingers around in a strategic fashion. Well, to top it off, the woman he came in with also starts dancing with him. The woman is a big (bigger than him by quite a bit) black woman with a sequined shirt on. It was great. The best thing about it was though, everyone in the pub starts joining in! No was just laughing at them, it was just a big party that everyone wanted to be a part of! That was a good night.
We also went to Covent Gardens... which is basically just a big touristy area. Here are some photos from that. (Note: I realize this picture of me molesting a statue is inappropriate. It wasn't my choice, he forced me to do it!)
AFTER LONDON
Now then. Once I got back to Lancaster, I immediately contracted a deadly virus called influenza. I also had a nice case of tonsillitis. I, however, refused to go to the doctor for a good three days until I could no longer swallow without wanting to rip my windpipe clean out of my body. When I went, they got me in and gave me some antibiotics yadda yadda and was told to sleep because I had a fever. So, I did. Luckily, Annika is good enough to have covered my shifts. I owe her big time.
Sunday rolls around and I'm feeling pretty good but not quite tip-top yet. Annika and I left on Sunday for the Manchester Airport because my flight was at 6 15 AM the next morning and hers was something like 9 AM. We slept in the aiport. Actually, I slept in the airport and Annika watched our stuff because she was scared she was going to get robbed. Monday morning I check in and everything around 4, say goodbye, and go to my gate. Lo and behold my flight is cancelled. I spent the next SIX AND A HALF hours in line to try and reschedule my flight. By about 1 30, I find out the next flight to Seattle that I can get on isn't until Thursday so, since I had no other option, I booked it.
Luckily Charlotte's family is great and they live rather close to Manchester in a town called Oldham. I went there and stayed the next couple days. Annika's flight got delayed and delayed and delayed and as soon as I left for Oldham she texted me and said her flight was just cancelled. I told her to come to Charlotte's house but she said "I booked a flight to Dusseldorf tomorrow morning." Annika, is not from Dusseldorf. She is from Frankfurt. So I said "Is that near where you live?" And she said "I think it's somewhere on the east side of Germany." Annika did get home the next day... it was an extra train ride, but probably worth the work... and she also managed to stay awake for ANOTHER night in the Manchester airport to ensure that she wouldn't be robbed.
GETTING HOME
This is where my saga really begins. I went back to Manchester on Thursday morning early... I think I got up at 2 AM and left Oldham at 3 AM in a taxi. I got there, checked in and went to the gate. I soon realize that on a list of ALL flights leaving Manchester, mine is the only one delayed. Apparently there were mechanical problems on our plane. My flight was supposed to leave at 6 15 AM and by the time they were boarding it was about 10. I knew I had missed my connecting flight from Paris to Seattle (it's cheaper to go through Paris) and so I asked the info desk about it. She said "You can go to Paris if you want and they might be able to get you on another flight today or you might have to wait there a few days." This was not what I wanted to hear... I don't have the money to go to Paris and hang out for a few days. I go to a payphone and call mom... it's about 2 AM in the states. I'm bawling my head off saying that I'm not going to get to come home for Christmas and on top of it, lack of sleep and stress had made me sick again. Once I get off the phone and I'm about to head back to Lancaster for the next three weeks, I decide, screw it, I'm going to Paris and I'll sleep in the airport if I have to.
I get to Paris finally after nearly having a panic attack on the plane. I wait in line to see if there are any flights going to Seattle and she says, in her French accent, "I"m sorry ma'am the next flight to Seattle is Thursday." That means THREE nights in the Paris airport. I was pretty desperate so I said "Is there a flight to ANYWHERE in the US and then a connecting flight to Seattle maybe?" She looks again and ta-da! A flight to Georgia and a flight to Seattle an hour after I arrive there. She said "you're on a waiting list, you might not get on," so I hurried to the gate (the plane left in an hour) and waited at the help desk so I could claim any seats that were open. Once I got on the flight I was so ecstatic I can't even explain it. We boarded the plane (me and a bunch of huge, loud southern women) and ended up sitting on the plane... on the ground... for the next five hours due to snow/ice/lack-of-de-icer and general unpreparedness. Throughout that time the captain kept announcing "another fifteen minutes" and everyone was super restless. I had about a hundred French kids sitting behind me who kept KICKING MY SEAT. I was on edge to say the least.
Eventually I got to Georgia and called mom. She was pretty anxious I think because it had been about 15 hours since I called her and I should have called after around 10. Obviously I had missed my connecting flight to Seattle, but luckily they had already rebooked me for a flight the next morning at 8 20 AM. I was starving, it was about 2 AM, but all I had was pounds and the money exchange place wasn't open. So, I plopped down on the linoleum with my backpack as a pillow and slept for two or three hours. When I woke up I was soaking wet and, for some reason, my first thought was that it was pee and someone had peed on me. Namely, a bum. Eventually I figured out I had a water bottle in my backpack that spilled, but there were a couple minutes there where I was in quite a panic. After a couple weird incidents in the airport with an oldish African guy and a pastor in the bathroom, I boarded my flight to Seattle. Six hours later, I landed. It was unreal. I go to the baggage claim and see mom and Travis there and it was the most relief I've ever felt in my life! I almost thought I was going to start crying but I held myself together and pretty soon I was on my way home.
Well, that's the saga of my trip home. I don't wanna write any more on here right now because this is a craaazy long post. I'll try and keep this updated a bit more often from now on. Also, to my family, I hope you guys take this trip into account and realize how badly I wanted to see you guys!
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