About a couple of hours later, we finally enter the huge Boeing plane. I sat next to a window on the right with a German gentleman, who was reading some fiction and didn't say much during the flight. I think he was connecting in some city in Germany. The food wasn't bad in my opinion; they gave us chicken and pasta, along with snacks and beverages. I watched "The Devil Wears Prada." As I viewed the map throughout the flight, I could see our plane over the ocean. We over Canada, then Iceland, then the Ocean and then Ireland. I didn't feel nervous, just tired. And in disbelief I was actually going to be in London.

Eventually, six hours passed and I could see London, illuminated with all its lights. It was 5:55 a.m. and I left the plane, walked to Customs and was greeted by a cheery British woman who asked why I was entering the country. I told her that it was my birthday and did mention that it was for a day and a half. She chuckled and told me to enjoy my stay, but also warned me not to take photos in the airport or my camera would be confiscated.

I took the Waterloo Express, a train which goes from the airport to the city of London. Throughout the ride, I saw the Eastern suburbs, which looked a bit decadent and post-industrial. Eventually we reached Paddington station and I was freezing when I left the train.

I got off and the Tube and when I walked outside, I saw beautiful, victorian-style buildings decorated with advertisments and bright signs. The British air was crisp and I immediately took out my camera and snapped some shots. The cars were going the wrong way. I saw a red telephone booth. The streets seemed to roll and few people were walking. I asked a police officer where Bayswater was and in the most humble British accent, he told me to take a right over the way. I found my hostel.

A Brazilian man greeted me at the desk. Checkout would not begin until 11 a.m., so I could get breakfast and drop off my stuff, he said. I went downstairs and saw a couple of folks in the corner. I greeted them, but they stared at me oddly. "Is breakfast being served in there," I asked, in an assertive manner. They nodded, in a weird fashion and I looked away, somewhat annoyed. After I got my tea and bread (after asking if there was more on the menu and being told "No, that's it") I found out they were from Spain. Whoops.

Eventually I left and I headed for the heart of the city. I was almost hit by a car when I looked in the wrong direction. I had no idea where to go! I asked a gentleman how to get to the city and he told me with a fair Cockney accent that I had to take the 94 or 135 bus downtown, which would take me to Oxford Street. I boarded a double-decker bus and during the later half of the ride, I walked up to the second level. Oxford Street had tons and TONS of clothing outlets and stores, including many companies that don't exist here. I began to see the city awaken and after asking a gentleman how to get to Piccadilly Circus, I got off the bus.

Eventually I walked down to Piccadilly Circus (after being mistaked for a Londoner by a young woman looking for some stop) and saw the hustle and bustle of the crowd. A British guy took my photo in front of the monument and asked why I was there and seemed interested. "Are you on holiday," he asked. After telling him it was for my birthday, he said he had never been to London either and wished me a fun trip.

The next stop was Big Ben. I was lost, but a lovely Italian woman named Valencia guided me. She was studying abroad and was with her family for the day. I found Westminster Abbey and was amazed at the ornate and precious beauty before my eyes. I couldn't go in, it was too many pounds (which inhibited me so much during the trip). Eventually, I walked along the river Thames and saw the London Eye and after asking a German couple and a British man and another guy how to find Tower Bridge, I reached Waterloo Station. God that place was so busy. People everywhere, all kinds of little stores and cigarette and tie shops, a McDonalds and WHSmiths and exits to the Underground and lots of Italian, German and Indian accents. Giant screens and the sounds of laughter, commotion and announcements. I got on the Northern Line and found Tower Hill.

I saw a KFC, which was weird. The London Tower looked so clean for its age. I took a lot of photos and amid the crowd of foreigners, made my way to the bridge. I walked the bridge and snapped tons of photos. After walking it, I wondered if New York was better. I was bored. Maybe I should have came with someone else, I thought. I eventually made it to City Hall, which was open on a special occasion and took the elevator to the 9th Floor and saw the British cityscape. It was there that I realized I was actually in London. The bridge was so beautiful.

I took a long, long, long walk to St. Paul Cathedral, only to witness the elegance of the building for a couple of minutes. Again, I stepped inside but declined to proceed----20 pounds for an adult ticket. I liked how everyone was sitting on steps and chatting away. It reminded me of a scene from a movie.

The next major stop was Camden Town. I had never seen the punk seen so crowded, so busy, so infested with teenagers, art joints, record shops and clothing stores galore. GALORE. I was made I couldn't buy a damn thing, but did make a stop into a photo museum of famous photographers. Gosh, it was so crowded. I took a photo with a group of British youths standing in the center of it all, in punk attire. They reminded me of my friends back home. They were so nice (and the girl called me adorable, after I left). So awesome, they were. I made it to the busy terminal for the Tube and was nearly smashed to bits trying to enter the train. Eventually I asked a gentleman how to get back to my hostel and he told me to get on Platform "1 or 2." "Ok, one or two," I said. "No, one OR two," he said. "But that's what I said, one or two." "No, he said, "It sounded like you said 102."

After getting lost on the Tube for two hours (the Central Line stop Westbound was closed, go figure), I made it to Soho. It was so beautiful, tons of theatre signs and advertisements everywhere. I got lost again and asked a guard in a mall join where I could use the internet. "Try McDuggards or Bloody Kink 'cros the stret, " it sounded like. "Huh?" "Blood Kink---right near McDonalds." "Oh, you mean 'Burger King'!" They just laughed, I chuckled a bit.

Went back to my hostel. There was a party downstairs. If I was alone, I said, then at least I can get some drinks in the bar downstairs and find a gay club. The night was not over.

PART TWO

After drinking vodka straight and downing a Foster's, I met some people who had arrived earlier that day. An three Americans and a Parisian. One American was a student, the other two were a couple. I think they were from Kansas, and I asked if the student knew about Mates of State, but he said he didn't know. I ended up borrowing some pence from him to get another drink.

Later, I met a couple of gentleman in the bar. I aksed for a cigarette and we started exchanging stories. He about blew his top when I told him I was only in London for a day. He told all his friends and eventually his other friend invited my to go out with them. I cordially accepted. While the other got ready, I met an Australian woman who told me about her life in London and how she already had a degree and wanted to become a teacher. I met a lovely Swedish girl who was living in the hostel after leaving her flat, which she hated. I met the worker of the bar, who I thought I had seen earlier during breakfast. The bar was loud and karaoke was being sung by some drunk South Africans and Spaniards. After about 20 minutes, we departed.

I had to get money, so we stopped by the ATM, which was right by the gas station. We split up in two seprate taxis, and I was paired with two gentleman from South Africa. We exchanged political incorrect talk about out lives, relationships, our origins and the encounters we expected from the night. They reminded me of friends back home. I shouted that the driver was going the wrong way, when they asked why I was taking a picture of the driver. We laughed. I looked out the window and the city seemed to remind me of another familiar city and it glowed in all sorts of colors and we went around turnabouts and passed the London Bridge.

We finally reached a popping little club in some part of London which seemed unfamiliar. The lights were blue and the crowd chatted away, as I got out my ID and ten pounds. Someone was shouting and the taxis were dropping people off.
I entered and the smoke hit me in the face.

I danced and danced, although I wondered why the music was weird. I danced and danced with my Swedish friend, who became my dancing partner and photograph buddy. The night continued in this pattern, as I danced and twirled my scarf and snapped photos. The place reminded me of a bar back home. The men didn't seem any different. Everyone was drinking and having a good jolly time. I saw several gay men near the stage, but didn't go over and dance. I was observing the British and found no differences, except for when I used the restroom and saw that the men are far from modest when peeing. I danced and danced some more and eventually we had to leave, as a guard shouted and people were pushing us out the door. Why were they so hurried to rush us out, they don't do this in America, I wondered.

My new friends and I were walking about, trying to determine our plans for the night. After passing a gathering and reaching another bar, we hit a crossroads. We could either go to Soho and find a gay club or head for the hostel. Adam, who invited me, wanted to go to Soho, with Rob, who lent me the cigarette earlier. I wanted to go with them, and eventually, me, Adam, Rob, Daniel and Gareth, the two South Africans and a British couple Adam knew stood near the entrance of the club. We decided to head off, the the couple had to leave. Adam said his dear goodbyes to them and we shared a taxi.

Throuhgout the ride, I felt like I was in Cleveland. The guys in the back talked about their love of Billy Hicks and Mitch Herdberg and Adam and Rob talked about future plans and past events, including people they were disgusted by. I stayed slient, looking at all the weird yet colorful British signs and old-fashioned buildings. I wondered were the skyscrapers went. Adam asked if I was fine and I said yes, but I was tired. Eventually we made it back to Bayswater, at a cost of 40 pounds.

The most amazing part of the night happened after our return. Adam alerted everyone with a tap of his wine glass that it would be his last week in London and last major night in the hostel. Adam described his past experiences of living in the hostel, taking a 774 kilometer trek through Europe and staying in Italy, all after taking a one-way ticket from Australia several years ago. How eloquent and delicate his words were, along with his timbre. When he talked about how her learned from his great deed the importance of humanity and how we all strive to be happy, I was speechless. There were only a few of us left, but the emotional level of the room could not be unervalued. Daniel, who just met Adam was emotional, If big burly man, as he put it, could be on the verge of tears, then how else were we supposed to feel.

We spent the entire night and morning singing karaoke songs and sharing our experiences and how much Adam had meant to us. Adam, who is an extraordinary singer and performs in a band, sung a great deal. I remember Wonderwall, Over the Rainbow, Mack the Knife and so many other songs that were treats to my ears. it was soon half-past 6 and I had to prepare to leave. I collected emails and contact info and packed my bags. I kissed my dear, dear friends and hugged them and said "bye". I would never forget the hospitality they imported me.

After telling the Brazilian attendant bye, I walked through Kensington Gardens for a bit and took some last photos of London. I made it to the Tube and after there I got back on the Heathrow Express. I was dead. Heathrow was a busy mess and after passing through customs, buying some British snacks at WHSmiths and collapsing in my seat in the departure area away from the gates, I was ready to leave.

I slept on most of the flight back to O'Hare, although an American man, an elder from South Carolina, kept buggin me throughout the flight. He was nice, but did he really have to talk so much? At one point I was like, "I'm sorry I not more talktive, I'm just really tired." He was nice, but bothersome.

O'Hare's checkin was a pain. I had to go through immigration, get my baggage, go through Customs, recheck my baggage and then go through security, all of which took an hour and a half. I was so ready to go. After exchanging my British money into American dollars, I bought some McDonalds and sat and waited for my flight. On the way back to Lexington, I sat next to a really nice Army guard from Georgetown. He was talking about places he liked in Europe and how he liked London, but hated how expensive it was. I told him about my trip and also about how I liked UK and the UofL rivalry. When I was at the airport picking up my luggage, I ran into Matt Jordan and Chris Bush, who were returning from NYC, some music show at an art school. Go figure! I took a taxi back and arrived back to Patterson Hall. I knew I had to call my mom and tell her. I told her. She paused for five seconds. "What's in London, Keith," she asked, slowly. "Everything!" I yelled. After getting the whole, "You know better than to leave without telling us," and "Anything could have happened and we wouldn't have known a thing about it" and more worries, she asked if I was ok and said she was so thankful I made it back safe. And she asked about my trip and she couldn't believe it. She was already prepared after I went to New York, but this still took her by surprise.

I learned a lot from this trip. I know that I don't ever want to travel that far or overseas again, unless I'm with people I care about and I'm going to stay for an extended amount of time.

But something else happened. I realized that I loved New York more. All the things I took for granted about America suddenly became important to me. I missed all the little things like the keyboards, the accents, the American dollars, shoes without three straps, skyscrapers and a southern greetings. For the first time, I felt like a minority in a foreign sense. I felt alone at some points, even though the city seemed familiar. I missed people from back home. I missed New York City. I wondered about my family.

London was not New York. I love that city so much, but London is up there too. I don't want to live abroad anymore. I'd rather live in a cosmopolitan city like NYC or maybe even Canada, but I can't fathom living so far away from everything I know. I recognized my American identity heavily, and asserted it when I had the chance.

The Brits were different. Everyone in London wears really trendy, chic and tighter clothes. Black is also a favorite. The guys wear tighter jeans and zip-up jackets while the women wear leggings with boots and blazers and trendy haircuts. They reminded me of the liberals here. And they seemed to smoke a lot and swear, especially about the Tube. They can also be pushy. But of course, I was only there for a day, so I can't really make a conclusion.

At the same time, I learned that the Brits are really no different from Americans. We have the same wishes, desires and dreams as they do. We go out to clubs. We party. We both drink and smoke. We hate Bush. We have to go to ATMs in the middle of the night. We like weird comedians. We like the same songs. We resonate with each other's experiences. We just want to be happy, no matter where we are.

I still can't believe I did it. I don't think I could ever do a random trip there again, certainly not alone. It's so awesome that I did it, but so overwhelming that I could never go alone again. It will definitely be a while before I go overseas again. I'd rather go to NYC again and visit other cool places around my country, but I do not want to live in London. I can't fathom the thought of being away from America for so long and so far. America has its faults, but there are just certain things I could not do without.

By the way, did I mention this all happened on my birthday? Haha!