^Woops, is that a "bad" British slang? I guess I'll find out soon enough...
SO. The last twenty-four hours have been an absolute whirlwind.
I had to say goodbye to my mommy yesterday morning before she left for work. Ugh, I HATE goodbyes. Yes, I cried a little... okay, you got me, I cried a lot. I'm a mommy's girl!
Anyway.
I was flying out of Boston Logan airport with Macauley this morning, so my dad had to drive me up there (and back to New Jersey in one day... I felt so bad!). Luckily, Mac and her mom were kind enough to meet us in Connecticut, which shaved off at least four hours from my dad's trip. It wasn't too hard saying goodbye to my dad; of course I'll miss him, but we have more of an unspoken love/we're fellow goofballs sort of relationship. He's not as gushy as I am as well.
I digress.
I slept (and by slept, I mean I was way too excited to sleep) at Macauley's for the night and we left quite early in the morning for our 8:55am flight. Mac's only about a half an hour away from Logan, which isn't bad at all -- I'm used to the jumbo annoying Philadelphia International drive. I was quite content, and overwhelmingly excited, in the back seat.
Besides our goofiness, we somehow kept it together and boarded the plane, adorned in "Phoebe and Kathy's Great Adventure!" t-shirts (courtesy of Mac's awesome sister). Ask me who Phoebe and Kathy are? I have no idea, which is the whole point. We. Are. Hilarious.
The flight wasn't terrible. Smooth flying, free food. Mac and I had rows to ourselves... or should I say Princess Hilary and Princess Macauley. I was slightly disappointed (I love meeting random strangers on airplanes... then again, this flight time was on the hefty side, so God forbid I meet a weirdie). I slept well and read Tender is the Night (my writing skills esteem plummeting, for naturally, I compare them to Fitzgerald's). He is a master of prose and his insight is frankly overwhelming.
Anywho.
Then the real adventure began.
Our final destination (thanks to Mr. Brooks, Dr. Awesome-Extraordinaire!) is the Waldorf Hilton, smack in the heart of London. Gasp?! Mr. Brooks is a platinumdiamondgoldjewelspricelessobjects member of Hilton, and bestowed his benevolence on us poor college kids (okay, okay... yes, he is Mac's dad, but still! He didn't have to!) He frequents Hiltons for his job, and paid for the room with extra Hilton points. Mac and I (imagine: still in our one-of-a-kind bro tanks) barrel our way into a train with all of our (necessary) crap for the upcoming semester. After about an hour on the Piccadilly line, which sounded like an up tempo jig, we arrived at Covent Garden stop, about four blocks from the Hilton. We were each hauling our too-big luggage out of the train (I almost tripped, receiving points and laughs from not-so-innocent passerby) and onto the cobbled street. What amazed me more than anything was the kindness of strangers to help us out. At least eight people stopped us to either ask us if we needed help for directions, ask to assist us with our bags, and one even lugged my heaviest suitcase up a flight of stairs (he was also conveniently, and wildly, attractive). YES. We must have had a neon sign over our heads that shouted, "HELP ME! I'M AN AMERICAN!"
Unfortunately, we didn't get to explore the streets of London tonight, but judging by the short walk to the Hilton, I love it. The buildings seem to lean over the cobble stoned streets, with welcome. It was quite overwhelming, honestly-- the combined generosity of random strangers and general "classy but chill" aura of the surroundings was too much for me to take in.
Alrighty, it's 9:07 according to my computer... which means, in reality, it's 2:07. Whoops! I have to get some rest before the real adventure begins! I'll add pictures when I have better snapshots and more time.
Cheerio!
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