Well hello there London!

Ok.

WOW! So...my computer says 8:17 AM so that's what time it would be if I were home at Hendrix. Right now it's 2:17 PM London time. And boy has the jet lag caught up with me. Man.

Well I'm going to do my best to keep this thing up to-date. I thought that the best thing in the first place would be a nice little picture of my flat. Guess what? It turned out to be a nice size. I have my own little corner where my bed is and a nice set of dresser drawers and a closet. WHEW! Good thing because I packed my whole room. (Thank you 29 inch 48 lb rolly bag!!)

Check it out! I am staying at 17 Bedford Place. Right down the street from the British Museum. No big deal. AND...when I got into London today (at some ungodly early hour) it was sunny outside! I'm telling you it's a sign.

Ok. Now to go into the details of the really long grueling flight. I am not kidding you, I don't ever want to have to go on a ridiculously long flight like that again. I'm telling you, I'd rather go to Sannibel twice and back!

But to start...I was all nervous after I had to go through the security in Little Rock. But the airport was so empty. I sat and waited and waited and waited. I found myself in the middle of a national guard movement to Chicago. Then I found myself on a plane next to this really nice old man who tried to ask me all these questions about England. He had overheard that I was traveling to London when I checked my bags and I thought that he was being a little creepy...so I pretended to fall asleep.

Next I found myself in Chicago...so close to my cutie but so far away. I DON'T like the O'hare airport. That place is on crack. Really it wasn't that difficult to figure out where I needed to be...but it took me twenty minutes to get there! Then, I decided I was hungry so I made the fatal mistake of getting in a line for a McDonald's snack-wrap. I distinctly ordered water, but the lady behind the counter didn't hear me. So of course, when I got my wrap water free I was upset. I had to go back to the counter and endure that same lady as she yelled at me. AND THEN I only got a small cup of nasty hot water. Thank you airport workers!

I finally got over my snack fiasco in time to board my seven million hour flight. I started off in the wrong seat. For some reason, even though I was holding my ticket I sat in the wrong aisle. Then this lovely woman politely told me to scram. I moved to my real seat and lo and behold a real live lovely granny woman sat next to me. Before I knew it, she and I were discussing sewing quilts like it was no big deal and like we go together to play bridge every Wednesday. She really was nice, and reminded me of my Gramner in some ways. She told me to tell my Mom that I had nice manners. I smiled inwardly when she told me that, and outwardly. She took a lot of my stress away and I managed to relax as best I could on that flight. No sleep, of course, so I read George Orwell's Animal Farm, which I was supposed to have already finished. After that I still had five hours to kill, so I spent the remaining time restlessly trying to get comfortable. I'm telling you, it's not my favourite thing to do, sit squenched up like that in the air with your ear popping for hours on end. With the landing though, some of the roaring has gone out of my ears so I think there may still be some hope left.

Anyway, when I got to the airport I got all nervous about customs and all that. I mean, I guess the UK still calls it Customs? I freaked out because I couldn't find the right spot for my passport...but then I read a very simply sign that said, "Other Passports" seeing as I felt like an 'other' by this point I got in line. Thankfully I happened to be in the right one. I walked to the counter where a stern Indian British speaking woman sat. I handed her my passport and was reaching for my letter of study as granted by Hendrix when she started asking me twenty questions. I answered all her questions, she stamped my passport and didn't even need to see my letter.

And that was that. I was through.

BUT. Drum roll please...

Then I had to get my three huge-mongous bags from the airport to the tube to my flat. Seriously. I grabbed my rolly bag and my green duffel bag and started walking blindly through the airport. Somehow I made it correctly out of the "no things to claim" line and found myself in the part of the airport that led to the tube. Then I grabbed some major courage and battled an escalator with all three bags. I got to the bottom of the escalator and stood standing for literally thirty minutes watching people swipe their cards and hope the turn style. I finally got up enough courage to ask the Information desk which line I wanted for Russell Square.

He replied that I needed to take the Piccadilly line. So I got in line, paid 4.95 lb (Thank you Mr. and Ms. Gately!) and then battled another set of escalators. Luckily I slid my card through that swiper thing like I was an old pro. I just managed to squeeze my bags through though. When I got to the stop, the tube came and I sat down and finally had a minute to relax. I even got out my small map and figured out where I needed to go after I got off the tube...but then...

People started filling up the tube out of nowhere. I immediately discovered that in my excitement for a seat I sat in the wrong spot. Literally. I was in the very back behind all these people and I needed to get out without breaking off all their toes. Also, I was taking up *blasphemy* TWO seats!

I just shoved them out of the way and kept apologizing and made it out of the tube. Then I had to make it out of the tube stop. It took me forever to figure that out because there were just stairs everywhere and I couldn't do it! AGHHGSHSKDJSLKDJSOA.

But finally I got out and squeezed all my bags past beeping gates and Londoners who were so furious with me only to get outside and stare at Sunny old London.

I couldn't believe my eyes. I also couldn't remember directions and I had no strength to get my stupid bags anywhere. Luckily, Kemper, the only senior female who is also with Hendrix-in-London, found me just then and directed me to our flat, even helping me with one of my bags.

Thank the lord.

So, the moral of the story is...I am supposed to be in London. People from the nice Grandma lady, to the nice ticket man, and Kemper have been helping me all along.

I know it's silly but I feel accomplished, sleepy, and excited.

LONDON!

Hope you guys like the pictures. Please comment on my ridiculousness