Travelogue, Part the First: Getting there is NOT half the fun

We arrive at the airport Friday evening at about 7:30 for our 9:55 p.m. flight. We hadn't eaten dinner, figuring that we'd best get checked in and through security before we attempted it. Good thing, too. We go to the British Airways check-in counter. There are approximately 752 people checking in for this flight, and there are three lines open to receive them. And as far as we know, we don't actually have seats for this flight yet.

After over an hour, we're checked in, and we have seats, which is better than 18 other people on our flight, who got bumped. Last boarding is at 9:35. It's 8:45. We pass a restaurant or two, during our journey through the airport to security, and then from security to our concourse, and decide that for sure, there'll be something in our concourse for us to eat.

There isn't. Everything's closed. We manage to grab a couple of bottles of water, a small box of Wheat Thins (for me) and a package of Lard-Filled Fats for Zander at the newsagent stand right before it closed, and called it dinner. We had time for a drink at the bar by the gate, and Zander had time for a smokey treat, before boarding.

We were in the next-to-last row. The whiney people behind us didn't have seats that reclined very far; therefore, they reasoned, we shouldn't put OUR seats back, either. We could only recline them halfway before we started getting kicked and kneed in the back. When you're talking about half of a maximum of a 59 degree angle in the Cheap Seats, you're not far from upright. It was not a fun flight. If not for my sleeping pill, I doubt I'd have slept at all. I think I snuck in about 3 hours over the course of the 7-hour flight.

We land, take a taxi to our hotel, and arrive at about 12:30 p.m. London time. Here is a picture of our hotel:
Our room isn't ready. So we dropped the luggage off with the concierge and took off on the Tube for some sightseeing. We walked 'round by the river, and went to Trafalgar square, where I saw for the first time what would become a familiar sight over the next week -- signs screaming "BACK THE BID!" London is bidding for the summer 2012 Olympic games. The actual people we talked to in London think this is the dumbest idea ever, and I can't disagree. While London is, overall, a very, very cool city, and one that everyone should visit at least once, it is extremely crowded already during the summer. It is at least as crowded as DC, with narrower streets. I cannot for the life of me imagine an additional million or more people fitting into this city.

Anyway, after a couple of hours of wandering, we check back at the hotel at about 2:30 and yes, thankfully, our room is ready. We unpack, and then nap for about 2 1/2 hours. I awaken more refreshed, but completely disoriented...I have no idea what day it is, what time it is, whether I should be eating breakfast or dinner. I showered the travel grime off, chanting to myself, "It's dinnertime, it's dinnertime, it's dinnertime" to try to adapt.

So I'm sitting on the bed, my hair still wet, putting on makeup before we go out to search for food. And Zander looks at me, heaves a sigh, and says, "So. We're in London." "Yep," I confirm. He scrounges in his packpack and palms something, then moves over to sit on the bed next to me. He smiles and presents me with a Little Black Box, opening it to reveal The Sparkly, and making a statement that involved the word "marry". I made oooohing and aaaahhhing noises and we agreed that these things would count as a proposal and acceptance.

We went to dinner with our friend Dr. Death at a fabulous Chinese place called Poon's *snicker* to celebrate. After a varied and filling meal, we called it an early night, and retired.

Coming Soon: Silly English Knights