The Life of a Gapper

24 hours in, and so much to report already. It’s not exciting stuff by the standards of most, but I’m not here for the exciting. I’m here for the experience, man. The English have a thing called a “Gap Year,” which is the year between High School and University that people sometimes spend traveling around, generally being a bum. So, in a sense, this is my Gap Month. It's come a little late, but I try not to think about that.

The plane ride was scary but thankfully uneventful. The first leg was on a frightfully small plane, and every bump and twitter felt like a precursor to eminent doom. I had the very good fortune of sitting next to a Denise, who not only distracted me when things went bumpy and twittery, but also offered me the number of a business colleague in London in case I had an emergency. She also helped me with the things I had not been prepared for, like where to go after we debarked (those Airport security people are so unhelpful to noobs like me) and the customs paperwork that read like an Ikea instructions manual. No one barred me from boarding the next plane, so I gather I filled it out correctly.

The second plane was comfortingly larger, but I had no luck sitting next to someone as kind and quiet. A family of small children was squeezed into my row, but fortunately the stewardess (excuse me, Flight Attendant) allowed me to switch seats after I discovered that my headphone jack didn’t work. I was happy that she allowed me to move, but dismayed that she added, “It’s an old plane...sometimes things don’t work properly.”

I found a seat with no one sitting next to me, popped a Tylenol PM, and waited for mind-numbing sleep. Sleep never came, but by that point I was so out of it that I didn’t care. The food was horrendous (apparently an “Oriental Meal” is a flour tortilla with vegetables doused with some sort of strange sauce tasting mildly of Asian flavor) and a Twinkie. Do Twinkies originate in Asian cuisine? If so, I had no idea.

The wine, however, was free...so, I didn’t take up the Twinkie thing with their chef.

Taking the Tube to my hotel was less harrowing than I expected. When I leave, the Tube will be one of the things I miss. Mass transit is on par with the invention of the wheel. A few weeks ago, a new law was put into effect that prohibited drinking on public transport. In true English fashion, the residents responded by holding a mass protest of drinking and partying on the Tube. How brilliantly British.

Checking into my hotel wasn’t as easy, for apparently my US credit card doesn’t work over here. They have a new thing called Chip and Pin which I still don’t understand, but all I need to know is that it won’t work unless the card numbers are entered manually...it took 5 different people trying to check me in to discover that. I was told at one point to walk down to the local Bank and take out the cash to pay for the rest of my stay, but that was also the point in which the Tylenol PM decided to work, so walking anywhere was out of the question. I could hardly climb the 2 flights to my room, and wondered at one point if lying down on the stairs for a quick nap would be frowned upon or merely viewed as something endearingly quirky that people from The Continent would do. However, I eventually found the strength to lug my suitcase (I was so glad I had been able to figure out a Tetris system which allowed me to pack the smaller one and silently gave thanks to the Luggage Gods) to my room, and slipped into sweet oblivion in mid-fall onto the bed.

I wasn’t sure what day it was when I woke up, but I heard loud music with intermittent bursts of laughter, so I knew what time it was. It was Pub Time.

If I throw a stone out of my window, I can hit at least 5 pubs, so I found the cheapest one and went in for a drink. I sat at an empty table, but within minutes people had filled it. Apparently there is a community rule here, and any open seat is fair game. I’m very glad, because I met Louise. She’s a local, and we spent a lovely time chatting about the pros and cons of London Life.

One of the best things so far is that people have trouble understanding me. I speak, and there is an awkward pause and blank look on their face. I know that look, because I’ve worn it myself a few times. One thing I will have to learn is to speak slower and more clearly. I get a kick out of the looks only because I’ve never gotten one, but I’m sure the novelty will wear off soon enough.

Louise and her friends told me that they were going to a show on Friday, so we made plans and I stumbled the half-block back to the hotel where I tried in vain to defeat the Jet Lag Monster.

So ends my first day in the town I’ve always wanted to visit, and as exhausted as I am I’m having a wonderful time. Wish you all were here.

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First British accent heard - “Mind your backs, please.”

Funniest thing heard on the Tube- “Piccadilly Line with service ending in Cocksfoster’s“

First British meal eaten - Fish and Chips

First British desert eaten - Rolaids Extra Strength

**I spent a good portion of yesterday trying to upload pictures from my camera...all to no avail. If anyone knows something I don't (*cough*Rob*cough*) then I'd be jolly pleased to hear it**

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