Me and Every Single Pair of Underpants I Own Went to Scotland!
Part II: A second plane ride, cobblestones, and lots and lots of taxi rides in super cute little black British taxis.
This is a several-part series chronicling the part-captivating/part-lovely/part-shit-show ten-day trip that my BFF, her mom, and I took to London and Scotland.
We landed at JFK around 2:00 am our time, which was 5:00 am New York time. JFK did New York proud, as it was crammed full of people even at this early hour. The first task on our list was finding our gate and seeing an “On Time” on the monitor. The second task was coffee. Normally, coffee would be first, but after the shit show at SFO, the gate was first. We still didn’t have boarding passes, so we were eager to see an agent arrive. Carol and I sat with all our backpacks and her CPAP and eagerly waited for an agent. Lisa headed out to find us coffee. Finally, an agent arrived, printed out our boarding passes, and now all we had to do was wait. I did go to the restroom and wallpaper my back with prescription-strength Lidocaine patches. Since we were in the security “clean zone”, a pair of scissors were not to be found. Lisa kindly opened the packaging with her teeth. While waiting for our flight, we never took our eyes off the monitor—if the “On Time” changed to “Delayed,” who knows what the three of us would have be capable of.
We boarded our plane, and Carol and I actually got pretty comfy aisle seats. Lisa got a middle seat, sitting next to a guy who kept putting his hands down his pants. Finally, we landed in London at 8:00 pm London time, which was noon to our brains. We got into the taxi queue and OMG the little black taxis are just like the ones on TV! We let out a collective sigh of relief and let out little variations of “Whoo hoo we made it” as we pulled up to our hotel. The doorman said to us, “Let me take your luggage.” We replied, “No, that’s ok, we got it.” Lots of back and forth ensued, and explaining how two bags were going to one room and the other to another room. He said, “No worries, we will make sure your bags get to the correct room.” He was relentless, and so we said, fine, take our luggage, and went inside.
Something fancy was going on inside the hotel as beautifully dressed people milled about the lobby. The three of us looked and smelled like one would after doing what we just did. We made it to our rooms, and there was no luggage in them. “OMG, I just want to brush my teeth!” Carol exclaimed. That’s all she’s been talking about, really, for the last hour. Finally, Carol’s bag arrived in our room, and Lisa and my bags arrived in Carol’s room. We made the switch, Carol brushed her teeth, and I googled and found a pub around the corner. Carol had had enough and decided to go to bed. Lisa and I walked into exactly what we had hoped for—a small neighborhood pub. It was 9:45 pm. That pint of Guinness tasted like hope. We ordered one more round of beers and split a bag of crisps (or a bag of potatoes chips as the American blokes call them). That bag of salt and vinegar crisps never tasted so good. At 10:45 pm, the bartender rang a bell. I asked, “What’s that for?” He replied, “Last call.” “What time do you close?” “11:00” “Holy smokes, that’s early.” We finished our beers and headed back to the hotel. While getting ready for bed, Lisa said, “After the past twenty-four hours, my body has no idea what time it is. It’s like I’ll believe whatever time you tell me it is.” My brain and body felt the same and luckily, when we went to bed, we both fell right to sleep.
The next morning, Lisa and I headed to the ‘Executive Lounge’ for coffee and breakfast. We got a text from Carol, “My alarm didn’t go off this morning & I just got up. I’m going as fast as I can, but won’t make 8:30. I’ll try for 8:45! -Calamity Jane.” Carol and I had a 10:00 tour planned at the London Tower. As we ate our runny buffet scrambled eggs, Lisa looked up her train that was to take her to Manchester. “Oh my fucking God, my train has been canceled.” “WHAAT?” “Yep. I'd better go to the train station now. I’m never going to make this meeting!!!” Lisa quickly finished her eggs, sausage, and americano that came out of a self-serve spigot right there in the middle of the counter. Through the window I watched her get into a taxi and quietly said, “Godspeed my friend.”
Carol finally made it down and said, “The electrical outlet adapter I brought isn’t working, so I didn’t get to charge my hearing aids or my phone.” After some more chit chat, we realized we were never going to make the 10:00 tour. I called to attempt to see if we could change to the 11:00 tour. The lady on the phone said she’ll email the person in charge, and maybe they will get it. Carol ate her breakfast, and we headed down to get into a super cute taxi. I was so excited to see the streets of London!
Well, we got to see quite a bit of London and in slow motion because the traffic there rivals any I’ve ever been in. And I’ve lived in the San Francisco Bay Area my entire life. We finally made it to the London Tower. “Where in the hell do we go for the tour?” Carol reads from three pieces of paper stapled together, the tour information she printed out (bless her heart), “We are supposed to meet at the Northwest Corner of the tower.” I replied, “Holy geezus, I have no idea what direction is North or West. It looks like everyone is coming and going from that direction. Let’s head in that direction.”
We started walking, and Carol stopped, looked down and said in a gruff voice, “Oh ya, cobblestones.” I’m just going to say it bluntly: Carol walks weird. She walks toe-heel instead of heel-toe. If she were hunting in the woods this would come in handy as that is how the Native Americans walked when hunting, it’s much quieter. She recently went to New York with Lisa on another work trip and tripped, falling face-first into the concrete. Needless to say, it left quite a mark both physically and emotionally. I walk super fast (as I say, I walk fast, eat fast, and talk fast, but sadly, my brain doesn’t think very fast), and we needed to walk slow. Now I walked weird, too. We walked weirdly for about two football fields and found the entrance. We asked an attendant where the tour might be meeting, and she said, “Let me see your tickets, and that will help me see which tour you are on.” Carol handed me her printout. There were no tickets on it, just some information that wasn’t helpful for us. Carol handed me her phone so I could look for the tickets, and I couldn’t find them anywhere. I said, “Why don’t I just go back and buy us regular tickets, and then we can just get inside.” Carol replied, “But I really wanted to go on the tour with a Beefeater.” I paused and said, “What’s a Beefeater?” “They guard the tower and the crown jewels. You know, the guys in the red coats and black hats.” “You mean the guy on the gin bottle?” “Well, I don’t know about that.” “Hopefully, we will see a Beefeater on our walk through the tower. I will be right back.”
We were on a bit of a time crunch as we had tickets to ‘Goodnight Oscar’ at 3:00. It was now 11:00. So I ran (it was more of a jog) through the crowd of people and up the hill to the ticket booth, bought us tickets, and ran back to the entrance. Into the tower we went. We saw all kinds of neato old stuff, mostly armor and swords and things used to kill each other. I was curious how anyone fought wearing that full armor and how heavy and clumsy it must have been. We came across many signs saying “Garderobe”, I said to Carol, “I am very curious as to what a Garderobe is.” She replied, “I think it’s a bathroom.” So I asked the attendant (sadly, he was not a Beefeater) and Carol was correct, it was the loo. I braved the short line to go inside one. It did not disappoint. It was a small closet made of stone that a had a simple bench with and a hole in it. Underneath the hole was a chute that exited the tower and dropped it’s contents onto the ground. Clever.
After the Tower part, we went to see the Crown Jewels. We were thirsty so Carol got in line and I ran (this time I really ran) to the cafeteria and bought us some water. Carol had moved halfway up the line so I ducked under the rope and quickly heard a Beefeater say, “Oh no ya don’t!” I pleaded, “But I’m with her. I just went to fetch us some water.” He obliged and said, “Alright, on you go.” I few minutes later we got a text from Lisa, “I finally made it to my meeting. I was late and yes, they gave me shit for it.”
To get inside the Crown Jewels exhibit, we stepped through a two-foot-thick vault door. There were signs and attendants everywhere telling us that photography is not allowed. A friend back home had asked me to take a picture of a certain sign. I began running scenarios of how I was going to get this picture without getting caught. And then I wondered what they would do if I got caught. Would they confiscate my phone? Would I have to pay a fine? Would I get arrested? This was a good friend so I decided to just go for it and was on the lookout for the sign about how they transported the crown jewels once when they needed to move them.
We saw some more neato old and majestic stuff. The really fancy jewels were in cases with moving walkways on each side. There was no hanging around and gawking at the gigantic crown jewels. After looking at a few more things and being nervous about breaking royal law (sadly, I never found that sign), we decided we should head back to the hotel. Carol pulled out her phone and realized she broke all the rules—except that she didn’t take any photographs of the jewels; rather, while in the exhibit, she took a 20-minute video of the inside of her pocket. After the adapter snafu, her phone lingered on life support.
I insisted on making the ridiculous trek back to our hotel room to change and then back to the middle of the city for the play. I, who normally dress like a twelve-year-old boy, had my mind made up that I was going wear grown-up clothes to the play—we were in sophisticated London afterall. Carol kindly humored me. While sitting in nightmare traffic, we nervously asked our taxi driver, “Are we going to make it?” Which, on one hand, was a good idea as he knew we were in a hurry, but on the other hand, he drove extra to get us to the hotel so we’d have time to change and “relax,” as he said. We did make it to the hotel (with no time to relax) and to the show on time.
Goodnight Oscar was incredible, and Carol loved it. I’m a Sean Hayes fan and really didn’t know anything about the play except that he was in it and won a Tony for it. It turns out the story was set during the 1950s, and was nastolgic for Carol. And holy shit can that guy play the piano. After the show, we walked and found a great little restaurant called The Jugged Hare. They boast that their restaurant, “Focuses on using the finest, seasonal British ingredients, highlighting game, foraging and wild food.” The many wild, stuffed animals hanging from the ceiling brought this home. Once we finished our lovely meals and bottle of wine, they ushered us out pretty quick as they were closing for a private event.
Once we got back to the hotel, Carol had moved out of her own room and into the room Lisa and I had shared. The beds in this room were two double beds pushed together. So that night and the next, I basically slept with my best friend’s mom.
The next morning, with fully charged hearing aids and phones, and printed out pages of info and tickets, Carol and I hopped in a taxi to Buckingham Palace. We had the cutest tour guide named Claudia, who was from Italy and had a thick but understandable Italian accent. I’m sure Claudia would detest being called cute. She had to be in her early seventies, and I had no doubt she could smoke and drink anyone under the table. We walked down the mall (in which the road is made with red asphalt for obvious reasons) and watched the soldiers dressed in red with giant black fuzzy hats, ride in on horses. They were on the way to the changing of the guard. Everywhere was packed with people. The huge production of changing of the guard ceremony happens every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and then on Sundays in the Winter. That’s a lot of work to entertain a bunch of tourists.
Then we toured Buckingham Palace. My wife asked later, “Did it look just like it did on The Crown?” I answered, “Why, yes, it did!” This was another place where photography was not allowed. If it were, the place would be a bogged-down quagmire. Needless to say, the palace was incredible and like all good tours, it ended in the gift shop and subsequent cafe. We stopped at the cafe and shared a bag of crisps and a couple of official Buckingham Palace waters. We walked back to our hotel, slowly and weirdly.
After a bit of a rest, at 3:43 we left our hotel to forage for food. We walked a little over ten minutes to a nearby pub and found that it was closed between 3:00 and 5:00. So we walked another ten minutes to the Horse and Groom. They don’t serve food until 5:00. We were famished. We walked to the Kings Arms pub and found the same thing. We decided to return to the hotel, and hoping, their restaurant would be open. Carol was getting tired of walking, so we too a taxi back. We were telling the taxi driver our woes, and he said, “There is a Hard Rock Cafe around here that I’m sure is serving food right now.” We looked at each other, chuckled, and both said, “Ya, that’s the last place we want to eat at right now.” We made it back to the hotel and had a nice meal in their restaurant, and called it a night. The next day Carol and I would try our hand at taking the train to Manchester. I was already keeping my fingers crossed it wouldn’t be cancelled.
This is hilarious. I love reading about the mishaps and the pubs closed at random times and especially the 20-minute video of the inside of Carol's pocket, which sounds EXACTLY like something I would do.
Loved part II of the journey! Remind me to not let you plan any vacations we go on together! Can’t wait to hear Carols feedback on her “gait” after reading part 2. I loved the NAI analogy. Can’t wait for Part III.