Day 1 Heathrow Airport England to Inverness, Scotland.
How it was
supposed to go:
6:35 land
Collect
bags
8:35 catch
train to terminal 5 and end up in Inverness at suppertime.
Hold my
beer. How it went:
6:35 land –
the only thing that matched
Waited for
luggage for one hour then spoke to a nice gentleman about how I was going to
get my luggage that was still in Toronto.
Left
terminal 2 via train shuttle to catch train at terminal 5
Delay of
train coming into terminal 5 – it was delayed at terminal 2. All around the
circle.
Left terminal
5, stopped at terminal 2 and then at Paddington Station where I had to get off.
From
Paddington Station I had to go to Kings Cross Station. Got directions for the
train, went to the platform and got on. Unfortunately, it was going in the wrong
direction, so I had to get off, cross over the top and wait on the other side.
That was the train wasteland because I was the only one there. Went in the
right direction and got off at Kings Cross. Found the Northern Line like my
ticket said after going down three levels over one big old escalator, found out
it wasn’t the right place and had to go up the other side on a big ole
escalator.
By now I
was wandering aimlessly in the bowels of London city streets where people were
telling me go up them stairs, take three rights and you are there. I did that
but wherever there was, I wasn’t in it. I just want to say that “them” stairs
were not like your average 12 step stair program, nope. They were like Dalai Lama
of steps with quotes on the right where you want to quit kind of step. Then I’d
get to the top and somebody would send me back down again. As I approached the
Dalai Lama steps for the third time, I had a sudden sense of defeat mixed with
frustration and a dash of self-pity and I had the urge to shed a tear. But I
said to myself, “that’s enough of that nonsense, look at where you are.” I
sucked it up and went down the 200-foot escalator once more, sure that what I
was looking for was down there.
I stopped
this young girl who was looking at the train app. I asked her if I was in the
right place to get the train to Inverness and this dude came to a halt and
backed up. “Lady, the trains are not down here. You are looking for the ones on
the ground.” What I didn’t know was put to me plainly and I followed his
directions up and out past the Dali Lama to freedom and sunshine.
This is
where this couple sent me up the side of a two-storey building (literally, the
stone steps were on the side). Up there, the girl pointed to where I needed to be,
and it wasn’t up them steps.
Finally,
after almost two hours, I burst through the doors of the Kings Crossing Train
Station and into chaos. I made my way to the information booth and the gentleman
there told me to come back up in 15 minutes and he’d have news for me. It was
madness there, trains cancelled, delay, and people gathered watching the schedule.
I went back up when the time was up and he told me the train wasn’t posted yet
but I could go to platform 2. I did. So did about five hundred others. I
managed to get a seat by this time ahead of many of the people. The track was
broke on the main line and everything had to be routed around it or through it
using one line but taking turns. We were going toward it. Luggage was piled up
all around, people were on the floor, standing by the walls, children, adults,
seniors, just blocked. People were angry about not getting seats, not getting
something to eat, etc. It was bad.
I think
there must have been a Murphy fellow who designed that train because everything
that could go wrong (except for a head on collision but I digress) did go
wrong. We stopped on the track for about 90 minutes as one train went through
the bad spot, another came toward us, through it and then we were able to go.
When we finally got through, another slower train with more stops got ahead of
us and we’d have to stop and wait to be able to pass the station. Finally, that
one went in a different direction but the railway put on another one to
alleviate the mess of people waiting on the lines. She, too, made more stops
than ours did so the trip to Edinburg was delayed in the end by 2.5 hours. By
this time, all the trains going to Inverness from Edinburg were cancelled. I
was in another pickle. There was another train that would bring me to a station
an hour away that still had a non-cancelled connection to Inverness. By 10 pm,
I walked in through the doors of my hotel five hours later than planned.
I had
planned to sit in first class with lots of room, keep to myself, do some
writing, but what I had planned didn’t come to fulfillment.
What
happened instead was me really looking at the countryside. The burst of yellow
canola patches slivering and patching the land, the gorgeous green grass with
that fresh look of spring, the darker corn rows popping through the soil, the
cleanliness of everything, and the list goes on.
The man who
helped me through the process of having my luggage sent to me thanked me for
being nice. Imagine how easy it was to just be nice. I had a chat with two
woman who were so positive about the trip even though they were delayed. They
laughed and carried on and made everyone’s mood lighter. There was this lady in
the wheelchair who shouted, I’ll see you all later and she meant it though mostly
everyone never saw the sky over her before. The crowd of workers who kept
coming out of the dining car handing out chips, Pepsi, water, beer, sandwiches,
cookies, etc. and cleaning up afterwards. They kept apologizing and keeping
everyone well informed of what was happening. The hum of chatter and peeks at
conversations between strangers that was a pleasant accompaniment to alleviating
the stress of the day and passing the time. The old man who got on at the wrong
station and the tired travelers who volunteered to give up their seats. The
lovely man and wife who chatted me through the last few hours on the way to Inverness
and promised to do a drive by wave at Moniack Mhor sometime this week. And
finally, when I got to the hotel, I had the most wonderful room. There’s even a
mural of a Newfoundland beach (well it could be kind of thing, but may not be)
on the shower wall to make me feel at home. And to top it off, I asked if the
kitchen was still open and the chef spoke up behind me and asked me what I
wanted. (PS I had no food on the train except for two small bags of chips and
some candy tots a woman left me when she was getting off). I said a sandwich would
be lovely if they had gluten free bread. When I got a chicken salad sandwich, salad,
chips, dip and a ginger ale delivered to my room not fifteen minutes later. And
there were many more positive things from the day. Instead of being sad, mad,
and frustrated, I went with questions, opening my eyes, and that feeling I had
when I was down for just that minute, I can recreate that for a character in a
book to come.
I don’t
want to plan a regret; that's no fun for anyone. I want to live an adventure. Day 1 in England/Scotland,
you weren’t so bad. I had sense enough to bring a change of clothes in my carry
on and I’ll be just fine until my bags catch up with me. I have all week to
write. Lucky me. Hold my ginger ale. I'm allergic to beer.
