I'm about to tell you a long ass story. A really, really long ass story. So long that I'm breaking it into four different sections to stop your eyes from exploding from so much reading. If you're still interested, read on.
Since last year I've been talking about going on a trip outside of Canada. Originally I wanted to go to Australia; I was dead set on going there until the buddies I was going to go with crapped out on me. Not that it was their fault, but it was sort of a let down. After a year's worth of (mostly) saving cash, and still wanting to go on a trip, I decided on visiting the United Kingdom.
Taking back all the negative things I've ever said about my mum, she really helped me a lot with the planning in this trip. She phoned a lot of hotels and searched for the best deals to help me save money. She even arranged my ride to the airport, and then to the hotel once I arrived in Gatwick. I have to thank her for that, if she ever reads this. Thanks mum.
Day 1:Now, on the day of my trip I said goodbye to my girlfriend and my pet rabbit Furry (who was too busy eating to notice me leaving anyway). After a ton of scrambling around to get to Hamilton Airport, and then a two hour flight delay, I was finally on the plane. Unfortunately I had to sit in the back of the plane where the toilet was, and as you may guess it smelled pretty damn awful. Thanks FlyGlobeSpan, you money stealing bastards. We took off around 1:30AM.
Now, the actual take-off is one of the coolest things I've ever experienced. It's like being on a roller-coaster that's rocketing towards the sky at an unimaginable speed. I felt my heart leave me on the ground as I flew into the night sky, and watched the city lights of Hamilton twinkle back at me like shiny ants as I fly higher and higher. It was pretty cool.
The flight attendant then had to show us safety procedures. She tried to keep a straight face but it looked so funny that even she started to laugh. Yeah, we were all pretty tense and just wanted something to laugh at I guess. After the awe of seeing myself in the Stratosphere and far above the clouds, the six hour flight began to become a little boring. I read through most of my book, a WoW story about the orcs if anyone knows what I'm talking about, and then talked a little to the black lady I was sitting with. I don't know when, but I fell asleep somewhere around three hours into the flight.
I was woken up by the bright sunlight coming through my window about five hours into the flight. From here I pretty much waited impatiently. We flew over the tip of Southern Ireland, and finally we were over England. I was getting damn excited to get off the plane; perhaps too excited because I felt a little sick as we landed. Finally off the plane, a huge wave of realisation hit me: "I'm in England."
After waiting another half hour in line at customs, the jerk behind the counter permitted me into the country and I went to find my bags. I got a little lost and couldn't find my hotel link, and a lady rushed me to my train just in time for me to get on as it was departing Gatwick Airport. Yeah not a great start to my trip. Getting off the train, I was picked up by a bus and taken to the Royal National, and finally into my room. It felt unbelievable; "I'm seventeen and I'm alone in Britain, with no rules."
London is a damn big place, and it isn't smart to travel without a map. Yeah, I'm kind of a moron and didn't realise that at first, so I spent most of my first day trying to figure out where the hell I was. I wandered into the famed British phone booth (which for some reason was loaded with porno pictures) and called my mum to tell her I arrived. It was about 5PM British time, so most of my day was pretty much over as shops close at 6. I let myself be amazed by simple things, like their funny looking street lights and cars on the left side of the road.
I wandered around taking pictures, trying to find Buckingham Palace. Never ask people in London for directions. They will A) Look at you like you're American/retarded or B) Give you a terrible and quick description of where to go. I learned that the hard way and ended up getting no where that night. Regardless I was in England, and it felt good.
Day 2: Today I was a little smarter. I had breakfast in the hotel's restaurant and then purchased a map from a crazy tourist lady. Then I went to the Museum near my hotel and saw a bunch of neat things. It wasn't really what I was looking for or interested in; most of the things in the museum were from Africa or Asia. I also made my first retard mistake where I thought the 2 pence coin was £2. I handed it to the man behind the counter and he stared blankly at me until I realised my mistake.
After the museum I decided I'd finally see the major attractions in the city. I crossed the Thames and went to see the London Eye. There was an aquarium nearby so I went in there for about an hour. It was pretty cool. There were lots of jellyfish, pike, and stingrays. There was a petting area where little kids could pet the stingrays too, which was neat.
Finally I walked back across the Thames to see Parliament, Big Ben, and Buckingham Palace. I can't describe what it felt like to see all of these things in one quick day, but it felt great to say the least. Tour de France was going on as well, but I didn't manage to see much of it.
Worn out from all the walking, (it took about an hour just to walk to the London Eye) I returned to my hotel and mostly read my books for the rest of the night. I finished them, watched a little bit of BBC, and then went to sleep upon realising the time.
Day 3: This would probably be the biggest retard day of them all if it weren't for my difficulty in Scotland which I'll explain later.
For starters, I woke up at 2PM. Late nights = bad in Britain, considering shops are only open until 6PM. Panicking that I had wasted most of the day, I rushed out the door to make my way to the destination I had picked for the day: London Tower Bridge. I visited St. Paul's Cathedral briefly, then continued my rush to the Bridge. So far not too bad I had thought, just missed a little bit of time and still no infamous British rain. I managed to stop by at a World War 2 recreation building, where I went through a simulation of the air raids the British had to face against Nazi bombers. That was the only interesting thing that I experienced for that day.
The Bridge was pretty cool to see, but unfortunately I didn't get to look out from the top. I had figured myself smart and tried to pass as under 15 so I'd get a £2 discount, but then the lady told me I wasn't old enough to be alone and screwed myself out of the tower for the day.
The crazy tourist lady told me to take a ferry down to Greenwich so I could be at the centre of all the time zones. Not really that great, but being so late in the day I thought I'd take it. The ferry ride was pretty neat, if it weren't for the crappy ending. Retard mistake number three; I tried to save a few more pence by not purchasing a return ticket, thinking I could just walk back to my hotel. Big mistake. Greenwich is a lot farther down the river than I'd thought, and by the time I'd reached there the booths were closed and I couldn't buy a ticket to get back. I had to walk through "East London", or rather the slum to get back. My luck with the rain ran out, and I had to shield my camera for most of the journey. I accidentally ventured down one street that seemed to be taken straight out of a medieval horror story on my way back as well. Fun times.
Day 4: Determined not to waste my last chance at perhaps one of the greatest cities in the world, I woke up early and went to the Imperial War Museum way past Waterloo Station. I saw everything from captured ancient World War 1 guns to Panzer tanks. I love this kind of stuff, I'm a 20th century war historian to a degree, so I was in awe. There was a section for everything dating back from the Boer War in South Africa all the way to the Gulf War. It was kick ass.
You may or may not believe this next part of my story. Most people have their doubts, but I swear it happened. I bought fried chicken on my way back to the hotel, and as I was eating I passed by Buckingham Palace to have one last look. Honest to God, the Queen walked by me (with her collection of people of course). She stared right at me, and rather than the usual smile she normally gives to her subjects, I received a look of disgust as I shoved fried chicken down my throat. Great impression on the official leader of my nation in her home country.
For the rest of the day, I mostly said goodbye to London. Despite the third day, I had a great start to my trip. I was ready to go to Liverpool.
(continued in next section)