To London, with Airline Delays and Cider

New York is one of those cities that I’ve always seen in various forms of disarray from pop culture, but I’ve never actually been.

Surprisingly, when I walked out of the subway station, my first thoughts weren’t focused on the fact that I didn’t have to flee a giant monster; I was distracted by the size. Descriptions and pictures can never really do something justice when size is involved, and usually pictures of Times Square or Central Park don’t have a banana in them. Walking out of the subway station into the shadows of the towering metal giants, I could see that we were dealing with something huge on our hands. Seeing as I had never been to New York, and herself not having been in several years, my intrepid companion Courtney, the original instigator for the trip we were about to embark on, had arranged for us to meet an old friend to show us around. We met with Rachel amidst the throng of people of the subway. She already had plans for us for the evening, which started with a trip in the exact opposite direction I expected. Instead of taking us up into the city that seems infinitely large when you’re standing in the middle of the forest of skyscrapers, Rachel lead us underground.

A wretched hive of scum and villany indeed.

Underground markets are another experience that I’ve only seen on the internet. To be honest, I didn’t know much about them; Underground markets always seemed like something people talk about in hushed whispers and backroom deals. So I was pleasantly surprised, if a tad disappointed, when we just walked right on in without so much as a flash of identification. I assume at this point that Rachel is incredibly well-connected with all levels of society and can go wherever she wants. We were immediately hit by a visual wave of color and light. Hipster food and shopping locales befitting any good criminal organization, like Dylan’s Candy Bar, Dog & Co., and Lush, lined the walls of the packed tunnel. The complex smells of a mouth-watering array of foods drew us in, offering happiness after our long journey. If I knew it was this easy to get involved in the seedy underbelly of society, I would have done this years ago.

We got food at a place called Bolivian Llama Party, because as far as I was concerned, there were no other options.

Well fed, our criminal exploits behind us, we evaded the law by ducking into the inner city forest known as Central Park. Surrounded by an endless stream of joggers, like a whole marathon got confused on which direction to go and now no one wants to ask for directions for fear of wasting time and falling behind, it really is a strange sight amongst the skyscrapers and cars. Our destination was the Bethesda fountain, where Rachel informed us we would be able to see turtles. We wandered through the fields dotted with lounging lovers and infinite dogs, and I really felt like we were in an entirely other city. In spite of all the people, it felt calming, in a way. It reminded me of the places that we would be able to see in Europe, like Ireland or Scotland - hopefully with less people, but still.

Found out that the Bethesda fountain was not donated or bought by the game company, and I was a bit disappointed.

We did not end up seeing the turtles. Instead, we sat and talked about Skyrim and other exciting things in life. The turtles eventually got tired of waiting for us and shuffled off into the sunset-lit water of a nearby pond, grumbling about millenials killing the turtle-watching industry.

Then it was time for the great adventure to truly begin! Our flight left from JFK at 12:40am - Ahead of us, the shadow of London covered  our next few days. It was a grand place of wonder, with incredible street markets, a dazzling array of restaurants, and home to both a fantastical detective and a Queen who, as far as the internet is concerned, just gives no shits. The excitement was so palpable, we slept the whole way over.

There was one small roadblock however, in that we had to make sure that our flight was actually still going to get us to London.

This particular little predicament was encountered in Keflavik, the airport of Iceland, where many trans-continental flights, especially Icelandair and WoWair, stop on their way to mainland Europe. We had been flying WoWair for this flight. For those of you who don’t know, WoWair is a minimalist flight (they charge for everything but give you cheap tickets in return) known mainly for it’s impeccable taste in color palettes (purple) and for being late for almost everything. They’re like that really nice friend who everyone loves but just won’t get his schedule together and sometimes to run on his own personal time schedule and no I don’t know about that from experience, why do you ask?

WoWair is also icelandic, which means that they’re some of the nicest people in the world. Icelandic niceties seem so widespread throughout it’s citizens, it almost seems like it’s legally required. When we landed in Keflavik, we were informed (very nicely) that our plane to Stanstead airport in London would be delayed, somewhere around 4-5 hours. We were then also told that if we wanted to volunteer to go on a later flight, we would actually be compensated in the form of a round ticket for anywhere, good for 2 years, booking in a hotel overnight, and some meal compensation.

Huzzah, we thought! The flight in question would leave the next day, we would get to stay in Reykjavik and see the city before leaving for London, and though we would be 24 hours poorer for London time, we would be richer in both mind and body.

Turns out that that little piece of information had gotten really excited to tell people about itself, before it had been properly approved. That flight was overbooked. Instead, there was another flight the same day, this time going to Gatwick airport in London instead of Stanstead. We still got a round trip ticket out of the deal, and we would leave the same day. Still brilliant! Let’s do it!

After informing the desk of wonderfully nice people that we were going to volunteer to move planes, we got our instructions. We waited in line for our original flight, got checked in and subsequently signed off from the Stanstead flight, which importantly meant that we were no longer going to be flying on that flight, then walked back to the desk triumphantly to be told that the Gatwick flight, our supposed new flight, was overbooked.

The thought came to mind that probably the correct way to present this information to people like us in the future would be to say that all the other flights are overbooked and we don’t need any volunteers, thank you very much.

The kindly man at the desk very graciously told us that while the flight was overbooked, 17 people hadn’t checked in, and that we were the first on the waiting list. He then asked us to please sit down and wait for a half hour until check-in closed. So we sat, luggage in hand, trying to figure out back up plans, while we had no idea if we would be going to London...ever. At one point, the idea of simply living in the airport was thrown around. We were given a meal voucher for 6 euro, which was very nice, but seeing as it was Iceland, and in an airport no less, (there was a salad there that cost more than our ticket to Dublin) that pretty much paid for the tax and not much else. Still, we were fed. It was now just waiting.

I don’t have any pictures of this thrilling time in our trip because we were picking out the couches we would live on in forever if this flight didn’t work, and staring at our clocks then back up at the help desk. Not really thrilling imagery. I think we’ll just save some time and move on.

I think WoW Air really likes to give people adrenaline rushes, because we were checked into the Gatwick flight with no real issues (apparently 13 people had decided that Gatwick was not in their future), and for our troubles, were given a round-trip ticket and upgraded seats on this new flight. Plus, we got in 45 minutes earlier to London than the Stanstead flight would have!

I think it was worth the wait, especially with that extra free ticket.

It should be mentioned that, despite the convoluted nature of the airport shenanigans, we still love WoW Air, and their endless good natured assistance and positivity left us feeling warm and fuzzy, although part of that might have been a combination of the jet lag and coming down from the adrenaline.

A little bit of WoWAir humor for you.

It was with tired, yet excited, bodies (I think our minds were already asleep) that we arrived, finally, in Gatwick airport - and soon, even that was behind us. The train passed through the center of Rome, and with a modest amount of Tubing (what I am colloquially calling using the Tube in London), we found ourselves in Camden Market. Almost immediately, we found ourselves in a Spanish Tapas restaurant. Truly, Courtney was feeling the pull of the Spanish. The dinner itself was well deserved, and quite good, after traveling for an excessive amount of hours (about 14, and then an 8 hour time jump forwards). We needed it.

Nothing says "Welcome to England" like deep fried eggplant covered in honey. 

Now, we should take a moment to talk about Clive. We had made arrangements to stay on Clive’s couch during our time in London through Couchsurfing. Clive is quite possibly the best Couchsurfing host ever because, in addition to being extremely personable and a great lover of travel, he very graciously waited up after our unreliable Tube knowledge got us to his place quite a bit later than we had told him - twice. He still gave me a good review! He was wonderful, excited to talk about everything, and more than generous. We loved him.

Bright and early, the morning greeted us with the wonders of a whole day without international travel. Truly, we were doing well in life at this point. We also had extraordinarily little jet lag, which was a miracle for me. I’m usually bedridden for at least 2 days as I recover from the terribly taxing task of time traveling. A nice breakfast at a local coffee shop gave us the energy we needed to do some vigorous sightseeing, and we once more found ourselves in Camden Market. This time, the cobbled roads had become the haven of street vendors and food stalls, with countless merchants emphatically telling us how good we would look in these rainbow leggings with the rainbow sweater and lit by the hanging rainbow lamp.

They kept rain-ing so many sales pitches onto us, we had to bow out.

Clearly, they knew what we wanted. We had to continuously tell people we would come back, in that time honored conversational exit from a shop when you have realized that you don’t want anything they have, but don’t want to come out and tell them straight up, because that would be rude, even though you know that you’ll never come back. So you just lie. Much better.

Rainbows were kind of an unintentional theme of the markets, in all their winding twists and turns.

Our wallets didn’t get away scott-free though. Courtney procured a silver ring and a silver necklace, both at ⅓ the original price, after a lengthy barter session, and I found a leather notebook to fill with sketches while we traveled which has yet to be used.

But soon, hunger called, steering us away from Camden Market, into the Borough Market. Then we passed out of the Borough Market because we were about 15 minutes too late, and all of the food stalls remaining were ridiculously overpriced hipster foods. We found solace in an underground cafe with cheap drinks and good food. We felt incredibly local, surrounded by people all wearing business suits.

A moment of silence for Courtney's earrings, which have disappeared into the wilds of Europe.

As one of our final stops through our only real day in London, we went over to the London Eye to catch a ferry down the Thames. I’m not usually one for the super touristy things, especially in a city that I’ve seen all these things before, but I have to give mad props to our tour guide. She conquered that tour. Fascinating commentary, excellent eye for the sights, and a fabulous amount of knowledge about everything we were passing. She also told jokes, and sang! That whole thing about seeing a city with new eyes was kind of true. We also got to go under the Tower Bridge, which was a very cool experience. We also got to go under the London Bridge, which is definitely not the Tower Bridge. In addition to being the most regularly mistaken bridge in London, it is actually the most boring bridge we passed. It also burned down a whole bunch, giving rise to the popular rhyme that may now be stuck in your head. You’re welcome.

This picture would be wonderful if the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben weren't covered in scaffolding.

As we were leaving the London Eye River Tour, our cameras flush with pictures of the setting sun and random pedestrians on the bridges, we stumbled upon a small festival. Courtney recognized the drink immediately - Rekorderlig cider, apparently of Swedish creation. They were hossting an evening in the middle of London in a small, sequestered garden.

People watching at events like this is always a good time.

Wanting to continue celebrating finally arriving in London, we grabbed a drink - I think it was a Bailey’s and hot chocolate - and headed down into the fray. People crowded around the small tables, downing cider like it was the only alcohol left on earth. The smell of sizzlling bratwurst and pungent indian food struck our noses as we descended into the middle of it all. It was busy, but our patience (and distraction by drinking cider) eventually netted us a nice table overlooking the proceedings below. Sitting on a boat had famished us, so we dug in to our German Bratwurst, drinking our Swedish Cider, and were serenaded by the sounds of NSYNC and Kanye West circa 2000. I felt my youth coming back to me in the weirdest ways. Plus, I have a new favorite cider.

Our drinks aren't the ones on that sign. That's just there to remind what the brand was. Sorry to mislead you.

ut we knew we weren’t to be in London long. All too soon, we were walking to the train station the next morning, bags packed, heading to Luton airport - and Scotland beyond.

We also agreed we would not be volunteering for anything.

Don't mind me, just doing sweet nothings on my phone.