L-L-London

We departed for the train station at 7:30 in the morning where we took a train to oxford then a bus, and then another train (where we were sneaky and sat in First Class) before we stepped foot in London. Our first stop was Hyde Park (which is amazing) where we dropped Lauren off for her Paul McCartney concert. 

Then it was just me, Lindsey, Laura, and all of London. We took in some sights (Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, London Bridge, Big Ben) and ate lunch at a nearly deserted underground pub as we could hear the cheers and cries of fans as England lost the football game. 

The tube was our friend in the vast city and navigating was fun/frustrating.

Standing on London Bridge looking out at the Thames and the Tower of London was a surreal moment. The water, the wind, the wonderful people. The history of the area. It was breathtaking. 

We walked through the kind of parks that have peppered with people lounging in the shade surrounded by masses of green loveliness. I would live in Green Park if it were legal.

We made it back to Hyde Park around 9 to hear some of Paul’s set and I’ve got to say, there is nothing in the world like standing with your friends listening to an original Beetle sing Let it Be as the sun sets on London.

It wasn’t long after a trillion encores and fireworks that it was dark and there were people literally lurking in the shadows. As the nighttime chill set in and my surrounding started to sink into obscurity, I realized just how unfamiliar I was with the area and it was a tad disconcerting. 

By the time Lauren met back up with us throngs of concert goers were pouring out of the gates and we realized we had mere minutes to get halfway across town to catch the last train home. 

We had to clutch hands so we wouldn’t loose track of each other in the crowd as we sprinted to the tube. Despite our exhaustion, we ran faster and longer than we ever thought we could. 

My watch said 11 and my adrenal glad said panic. What if we didn’t make it back? Would we find a hostel? Sleep in the police station? Get kidnapped by human traffickers? 

After a tube ride with one transfer, we finally made it to the train station where British Mr. Rogers giggled and told us our open return tickets were no longer valid. So we had to fork over an obscene number of pounds to get on a train we had previously been assured we’d already paid for. And I’m pretty sure Mr. Rogers made the process last eons longer than necessary. 

We ended up hopping on the train with only seconds to spare (ok, that might be a tiny exaggeration, it could have been a minute or two) and making it back to Birmingham at 1:30 in the morning….Where we had to take a cab for an hour to actually get back to our flats. Our hurried footsteps echoed in the empty train station and I tried not to notice the caution tape around the exit door with bullet holes as we went outside to the taxi queue and climbed into a cab with a driver who slurred his speech, drove on the shoulder a little two much and had no idea how to get us home. 

With guidance from us we made it back to our flats at 2:30…about 19 hours after our little adventure began. 

We’ll see how my return trip in a couple weeks turns out.

Photos soon.