“So it was a bit of a nightmare trip, was it?”

So I’m sure everyone knows about the situation at the airports right now, especially when flying internationally. We arrived to LAX on time, with our massive array of bags and stood out at the curb in a line that wound through the entry doors and into a Disneyland style zig-zag line on the inside. You could see a general frustration upon the faces of those who were around us, and even an element of fear, considering the recent events. Everything was fine, because a long line was expected, and we were early.
We reach the baggage check in desk, and the lady weighed in our bags and told Jessica that her carry on was too big. She also casually mentions that our 8:50 PM flight has been delayed until 2:20 AM the next morning. When she said the number, it didn’t really sink in because maybe she meant arriving in London at 2 AM right? Wrong. It was really delayed over five hours. And nobody could do anything about it.
The terminal was way too small to spend all that time. There were two restaurants, two gift shops (including one named I Love LA) a Starbucks and a magazine rack. That’s it. It was all just a blur of people watching, burning time, and light seat napping for eight and a half hours (we arrived at 5:20).
The terminal became pretty quiet after the shops closed up at eleven. Starbucks stayed open through the night, but only had staffed two people and since it was late and the only thing to do, there was a chronically long line.
2:20- the lady got on the PA and announced that our plane arrived and that it would take fifteen minutes to prep. A half an hour later the PA lady announces that the staff is being bussed over from a different location. Once the gates opened, the line formed, and then began the thorough bag checks. No liquids of any kind were allowed. Each bag was hand searched for each individual in line, and also a frisk was done to those with baggy clothes. From there, we were bussed deep into the landing field where our plane was. It was such a relief to finally sit down on the plane, even though it was three-thirty in the morning. There was a little boy telling his mom that he had a dream that everyone died, which didn’t brighten the mood. I tried to sleep, but I was too thirsty and I knew I had to stay awake to ask for some water.
The flight was pretty nice. We flew into the sun, but you couldn’t tell because they closed all of the windows. The British flight attendance personnel were all very chipper and helpful, and the seats were pretty comfortable for the “economy” part of the plane. I started feeling a little sick and claustrophobic in the dark about ten hours into the flight. I looked at our GPS global locator screen to see our location, and we were south of Greenland over the Atlantic. I thought of the cold water, and the whole terrorist plot thing, and I kinda freaked out inside my head. I took deep breaths and tried to close my eyes, but it only brought on higher nausea. One of the flight attendants noticed me breathing heavily, and asked if I needed anything. I sipped a water and focused on where I was, and that we weren’t too far off from landing, so then it passed. Somebody barely cracked the window shield, and the entire interior of the plane lit up. It was that bright outside.
We landed in London about ten o’clock PM their time. It was cool out, and Heathrow airport was very clean and efficiently designed. I enjoyed noticing the differences in culture on just little things.
We got our bags and began our trek towards our destination. This would have either been assisted by A) a taxi cab, or B) the “tube”. After hearing that our destination was a bit far off, and that taking a taxi could cost upwards of fifty pounds (around a hundred bucks) we reluctantly decided that saving cash and using the tube would be a more economical choice. Our luggage looks like this: two HUGE fully cram-packed pieces of luggage, two medium sized pieces cram-packed so they weigh around sixty lbs each, a smaller piece but it’s full of books and makeup making it ridiculously heavy, and my over the shoulder computer case loaded with random crap I threw in last minute before we took off. And once again, it is only the two of us.
You can push a bag cart all the way to the tube station, but then it has gates that only allow bag-sized pieces through. Around the gate are abandoned carts, to which I added one more. A policeman approached me while Jessica went off to see a map and get tickets. “Excuse me?” he said in a polite but direct way, in full blown accent “Are you expecting to take the tube?”
“Yeah.” I said knowing where he was going with the conversation.
“Are all these bags yours?”
“Well, myself and my wife who is over there. They’re all ours. Yes.”
“You’re going to have a bit of a time getting those on and off the train quickly. And you know there are no elevators for use at any of the stations. Only escalators and stairs.”
“Oh, wow I didn’t know that. I guess we’ll just have to take them one piece at a time?”
“You could do that, but you can’t leave your luggage by itself at any time. I’ll see if I can help you.”
The British authority are very helpful and courteous. He called a tube worker to meet with me, where we then went into a restricted area where I met with the “big boss” of security. There were camera monitors everywhere in the room, and the “big boss” was very direct. He said I could do what I needed as long as I didn’t leave any bags alone. The worker agreed to watch my bags as we took them to the train a piece at a time. He was very kind to help.
We had so much crap on the train, that we had to take a whole row of seats in the back just to fit. Luckily it was late enough in the evening to where nobody really cared, they just looked at us funny. People were coming home from work, and here we are looking like we’re frikking moving, on the London underground tired, dirty, a little crazed, all in the middle of the night.
When we got to our stop, we unloaded the train FAST and continued our trek with the bags. Because we only had four hands between us, and six bags, there was a little balancing and a lot of sweat. I could feel the tendons in my arm starting to go out on the third flight of stairs, and I got a brief look at myself in a reflection of a poster. My hair was sticking out everywhere, my face was deep red, and there were purple rings under my eyes. Plus my shirt had rings of sweat. Another tube worker noticed our struggles and helped pull a bag up flight of stairs. He took one look at me and said “You, sir, look pretty done actually.”
After two more sets of stairs, we were finally out of the station onto the streets. This area isn’t London proper, but a town called South Kensington. The town was very quiet and dark, and the only thing heard bouncing off the historical walls of the buildings were the rollers from our luggage. We pulled three more blocks and finally hailed a cab. We didn’t know where the address was, or how far away. The cab driver about fainted when he saw our luggage amount, because the little European cabs aren’t really designed to haul so much stuff. “You can fit a bag or two in the passenger seat, and the rest’ll have to go in the back.” He said. We loaded it up, and sat down. He drove two blocks, and we were there. We were quite close, and it cost 2.60L, but I didn’t care because it was that less work to pull the heavy luggage.
Luckily there was somebody waiting for us at the Pepperdine location. The location is an ex-residence multilevel unit that is really very neat. His name is Glyn and he was sleeping by the door for late arrivers like us. He was very kind and seemed very happy to see us. We told him about the trip and all we’d been through. He offered us food and water, but we were more interested in sleeping. “So it was a bit of a nightmare trip, was it?”
Yes Glyn, it was. But I guess it could have been worse.