Travel Story, as requested (albiet 5 yrs old)
So. There I was. Fresh off the plane, a lovely solid 14 hrs in the air. Heathrow has the look of a BBC sitcom, clean and very...British. My friend of a friend (isnt that the way it always is?) cannot pick me up, as she is working, but I have good directions. Off onto the tube I go. Past Chelsea, past Stoke Newington into my friend neighborhood. It is a bit rough on the edges, some minimal grafitti and trash on the curb. The Jamacain kids laugh at me and my accent as they play hopscotch; I laugh at them and myself as I only am able to jump to square 5 with my backpack on. Finally I made it to my friends flat; like a condo, attached to all the other flats all down the street. I am exhausted, she gets home from work right then, and I fall asleep promptly on the fold out coach. There comes a moment when propriety and cultural boundaries vanish into nothingness, and that moment came for me through exhaustion. My friend's friend was wonderful. Hilarious, understanding, and kind; she had been a traveler herself over the years and knew this thing that only travelers know which is how appreciative and amazing it is to have a comfortable, safe, warm place to sleep. Cheers to my first moments in England!