Orginally posted here, on 8th July, 2011.
Ok. So I’m on my platform waiting for the train, and behind that weird kid with the mist (Pig-Pen complex anyone? Charlie Brown shout-out!), a gentleman in a wheelchair leaves the lift with his Assistance Dog and his son. There were a few other people on the platform, a couple with a baby in a push, some chick, you know, your everyday background characters. As it turns out, I’m terribly lazy when lugging a suitcase, easily one of the largest and heaviest pieces of hand luggage I’ve ever had, and approximately 3kg of bright blue Judo-gi top around English public transport, so I took the first seat available (which happened to be the first one) after stepping into the train. It just happened to come with a gentleman in a wheelchair, his dog, and his son. To be honest, I expected it to be an unfathomably awkward (what’s up with the silent ‘w’? :s) hour and a half train ride, exacerbated only by the man in the seat across the aisle on his mobile. Nope. It was arguably the best, and at the very least indubitably the funniest train ride I’ve ever been on. Anyone even vaguely familiar with yours truly is well aware that I’m beastly loquacious. The gentleman and I began talking with occasional interjections from his dog and son.
The conversation was, at its inception, your generic British travelling conversation. Basically, we talked about where we were going, and the weather there. (Side note: North England vs Bahamas, I won.) The weather talk lead to talk of the dog Nela (aged 2, just graduated from her training, loves sunbathing and long romantic walks on the beach). By this point, Mr. Dude-on-his-mobile-phone-on-the-train-talking-loud-enough-for-the-people-across-the-aisle-to-hear (who to be fair, turned out to be a pretty cool guy) has joined the conversation. That still doesn't explain however, how the topic moved from Nela to Nero and Superloos/public unisex urinal-pee trough things. Now if you don’t know, Superloos are self-cleaning, coin-operated, toilets located in heavily trafficked public areas in large cities. Sounds good right? Two things, they’re also timed, so there is the added danger/thrill (depending on how crazy you are) of possibly mooning the community at large, and they have nothing to do with Nero, the last Roman Emperor in the Julio-Claudian dynasty (Try it. Google ‘Nero + Superloo’). I learned a great deal during that hour and a half, who needs university? I can ride the train back and forth, Portsmouth to London and save A BUNCH on tuition. Also, it turns out that no matter how much ballet they do, boys don’t point.
One of the greatest things about university is the friends you make. It seems as though I’ve been unfairly blessed in this department with some of the best ones ever. From Dan & Claire keeping my stuff, Kat, Sam, and Justin driving me and all that stuff around (with or without the car doors being locked @ Sam LOL), Alex proper giving me her house to stay in when I was [university] hall-less, to Emma giving me food (and not just any food, it was MEAT!!!), in terms of friends, I’m stacked. :D Another member of this group is the hella wonderful Julia, she was waiting for me literally just outside of my gate when I got off the train at Waterloo.
Now, the plan was to meet up with Julia, and catch a quick lunch before heading off to Heathrow. Obviously too simple a plan to go wrong right? We found a way. Julia being the sweetheart she is offered to help me carry my bags. Seeing as my carry-on weighed about as much as her, she chose the suitcase, and became human scale no. 2, insisting that it was without question more than 23kg. :\ I, still in denial at that point, refused to hear it. So we set off to find a restaurant (part of the plan), but we experienced a severe difficultly finding a way out of the station without having to lift the suitcase (not part of the plan). Unless we wanted to have lunch at Boots Pharmacy Waterloo Station, we had to find a way out. Don't worry, we did... after about 4 or 5 tries. We were halfway across a walkway over the road when we realized we'd have to lift the suitcase down (and of course up on the return) the stairs at the end. We turned around, and went back. I think we tried some escalators next... that we promptly rode right back up. Then some random elevator outside of the station that took us down a level, only for us to be redirected upstairs by some Caribbean guy in a tunnel rocking out on his guitar. Starting to get desperate, we followed some lady with a pram, finally finding a way out onto some dodgy back street/delivery drop-off point. The sweet taste of success (better than that pudding Julia had after lunch)!
So in the end we did escape, only to have Julia tell me that all the restaurants were 'up there.' Really? Not just one flight of stairs, but a double. O_o I take a deep breath while trying to drum up the _______ (fill in the blank) to attempt to lift the suitcase up. Then I spot it! A nice big, spacious, beautiful, lift... that we didn't end up using, instead deciding to eat at the one restaurant that wasn't 'up there.' Of course! Just when we find a lift.
We walk over, and the amiable host offers to put the suitcase behind the desk for us, however instead of doing that (or perhaps as a result of trying) he inadvertently becomes human scale number 3. He remarks at the weight of the suitcase, which sets off Julia again, adamant that the suitcase was over the allowance.
Boom. Cut to about 15 mins later, my suitcase is wide open on the floor of the restaurant, Julia is sitting there with a growing pile of my clothes in her lap, and is looking for more, thoroughly convinced that because I was going home to 30C+ heat, clothes were optional. Seriously, she took books, clothes, even make-up, insisting none of it was necessary. She even went to the level of asking whether or not I really needed my shoes. Wha?Honestly though, I love Julia, that chick saved my butt!
Time was getting up so we made our way back to Waterloo. Waaaaay easier to get down into the Tube part than up out of the train part. Who knew? We also had the added delight of having a very attractive young man offer to carry the suitcase downstairs for us; as it stands, maybe chivalry isn't dead. At this point, to me, there is no more admirable a friend to be found than Julia, and then she tops herself by riding the metro with me, then making sure I was safely on the line to Heathrow before we parted ways, her last instruction being to let her know 1) when I got home, and 2) how much the suitcase weighed.
Fortunately, I hadn't quite deluded myself into thinking that once I got to the airport everything would be good to go. That would be too easy. The first thing I do after walking into the Virgin Atlantic section of the terminal, was to weigh my suitcase. 21kg! Yeah baby! Julia, you're a star! LOLOL Even checked my hand luggage just in case (just under 10). Assured that I wouldn't have to pay overweight fees, I then endeavoured to do a self-check in... No. That machine took one scan of my passport and printed out a little slip telling me to go to the counter (Whatever it is, I didn't do it!). I start walking over, and Scotland Yard swarms the place. Then, we come back to reality, and you all have to wait until pt III to hear what happens next. ;)
Hmmm to preview pt III or not to preview?
Next time:
- farting in immigration
-Random/weird/strange/annoying Nigerian dude
-I love biscuits! ...and Cajun chicken in biscuits.
-What happened to the airport?
-Bamboo Shack in the car. :) Happy heart.
-Beach on Thursday. :|
Going with a two-fer on the quotes today:
“Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget.” -Annon
“Life is partly what we make it, and partly what it is made by the friends we choose.” - Tennessee Williams
The conversation was, at its inception, your generic British travelling conversation. Basically, we talked about where we were going, and the weather there. (Side note: North England vs Bahamas, I won.) The weather talk lead to talk of the dog Nela (aged 2, just graduated from her training, loves sunbathing and long romantic walks on the beach). By this point, Mr. Dude-on-his-mobile-phone-on-the-train-talking-loud-enough-for-the-people-across-the-aisle-to-hear (who to be fair, turned out to be a pretty cool guy) has joined the conversation. That still doesn't explain however, how the topic moved from Nela to Nero and Superloos/public unisex urinal-pee trough things. Now if you don’t know, Superloos are self-cleaning, coin-operated, toilets located in heavily trafficked public areas in large cities. Sounds good right? Two things, they’re also timed, so there is the added danger/thrill (depending on how crazy you are) of possibly mooning the community at large, and they have nothing to do with Nero, the last Roman Emperor in the Julio-Claudian dynasty (Try it. Google ‘Nero + Superloo’). I learned a great deal during that hour and a half, who needs university? I can ride the train back and forth, Portsmouth to London and save A BUNCH on tuition. Also, it turns out that no matter how much ballet they do, boys don’t point.
One of the greatest things about university is the friends you make. It seems as though I’ve been unfairly blessed in this department with some of the best ones ever. From Dan & Claire keeping my stuff, Kat, Sam, and Justin driving me and all that stuff around (with or without the car doors being locked @ Sam LOL), Alex proper giving me her house to stay in when I was [university] hall-less, to Emma giving me food (and not just any food, it was MEAT!!!), in terms of friends, I’m stacked. :D Another member of this group is the hella wonderful Julia, she was waiting for me literally just outside of my gate when I got off the train at Waterloo.
Now, the plan was to meet up with Julia, and catch a quick lunch before heading off to Heathrow. Obviously too simple a plan to go wrong right? We found a way. Julia being the sweetheart she is offered to help me carry my bags. Seeing as my carry-on weighed about as much as her, she chose the suitcase, and became human scale no. 2, insisting that it was without question more than 23kg. :\ I, still in denial at that point, refused to hear it. So we set off to find a restaurant (part of the plan), but we experienced a severe difficultly finding a way out of the station without having to lift the suitcase (not part of the plan). Unless we wanted to have lunch at Boots Pharmacy Waterloo Station, we had to find a way out. Don't worry, we did... after about 4 or 5 tries. We were halfway across a walkway over the road when we realized we'd have to lift the suitcase down (and of course up on the return) the stairs at the end. We turned around, and went back. I think we tried some escalators next... that we promptly rode right back up. Then some random elevator outside of the station that took us down a level, only for us to be redirected upstairs by some Caribbean guy in a tunnel rocking out on his guitar. Starting to get desperate, we followed some lady with a pram, finally finding a way out onto some dodgy back street/delivery drop-off point. The sweet taste of success (better than that pudding Julia had after lunch)!
So in the end we did escape, only to have Julia tell me that all the restaurants were 'up there.' Really? Not just one flight of stairs, but a double. O_o I take a deep breath while trying to drum up the _______ (fill in the blank) to attempt to lift the suitcase up. Then I spot it! A nice big, spacious, beautiful, lift... that we didn't end up using, instead deciding to eat at the one restaurant that wasn't 'up there.' Of course! Just when we find a lift.
We walk over, and the amiable host offers to put the suitcase behind the desk for us, however instead of doing that (or perhaps as a result of trying) he inadvertently becomes human scale number 3. He remarks at the weight of the suitcase, which sets off Julia again, adamant that the suitcase was over the allowance.
Boom. Cut to about 15 mins later, my suitcase is wide open on the floor of the restaurant, Julia is sitting there with a growing pile of my clothes in her lap, and is looking for more, thoroughly convinced that because I was going home to 30C+ heat, clothes were optional. Seriously, she took books, clothes, even make-up, insisting none of it was necessary. She even went to the level of asking whether or not I really needed my shoes. Wha?Honestly though, I love Julia, that chick saved my butt!
Time was getting up so we made our way back to Waterloo. Waaaaay easier to get down into the Tube part than up out of the train part. Who knew? We also had the added delight of having a very attractive young man offer to carry the suitcase downstairs for us; as it stands, maybe chivalry isn't dead. At this point, to me, there is no more admirable a friend to be found than Julia, and then she tops herself by riding the metro with me, then making sure I was safely on the line to Heathrow before we parted ways, her last instruction being to let her know 1) when I got home, and 2) how much the suitcase weighed.
Fortunately, I hadn't quite deluded myself into thinking that once I got to the airport everything would be good to go. That would be too easy. The first thing I do after walking into the Virgin Atlantic section of the terminal, was to weigh my suitcase. 21kg! Yeah baby! Julia, you're a star! LOLOL Even checked my hand luggage just in case (just under 10). Assured that I wouldn't have to pay overweight fees, I then endeavoured to do a self-check in... No. That machine took one scan of my passport and printed out a little slip telling me to go to the counter (Whatever it is, I didn't do it!). I start walking over, and Scotland Yard swarms the place. Then, we come back to reality, and you all have to wait until pt III to hear what happens next. ;)
Hmmm to preview pt III or not to preview?
Next time:
- farting in immigration
-Random/weird/strange/annoying Nigerian dude
-I love biscuits! ...and Cajun chicken in biscuits.
-What happened to the airport?
-Bamboo Shack in the car. :) Happy heart.
-Beach on Thursday. :|
Going with a two-fer on the quotes today:
“Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget.” -Annon
“Life is partly what we make it, and partly what it is made by the friends we choose.” - Tennessee Williams
RSS Feed
