Getting out of Boston was a breeze: a quick shuttle flight to New York and then an uneventful flight to London. I didn’t sleep much, but oh well. I get in, breeze through customs, walk for what seems like an eternity through the airport to get to the trains. I got a ticket for Heathrow Connect, since that was much less expensive (round trip was less than one single fare on Heathrow Express) and I wasn’t in a huge rush. My phone was dying, so I called Becca (a friend and former roommate from college) and said that I’d be at the station in London in about half an hour.
I got there just before she did and was a little worried my phone would die before we connected, but no problems there. It was really good to see her; it’s probably been a few years at this point. In fact, I think it was when the Red Sox won the world series and she and a friend came up for the parade.
We basically walked around for a few hours. First to get some food from the foodhall at Marks & Spencer, and then to Hyde Park to sit and eat. It pretty cloudy out, but nice enough to sit on the grass and hang out for a bit. From there, we walked over to Buckingham Palace about which my comment was, “Dude, that shit is crazy opulent!” It was such a weird building: very grand but stoic stone building, with all of this ornate gold stuff on the fence and gate. Seemed pretty British like that, I guess.
By that point it was like 3:20 and my flight was at 7, so I needed to start heading back. We meandered back, got a little lost a few times, and then finally got back to the train station around 4:40. I had just missed a Connect train and after thinking about it a bit, I opted to pay for an Express ticket rather than be getting to the airport at 5:30, even if it was another $30. I got on the train, and got off to check the board with the terminal information on it to double check that I was going to the right place, and got back on. It’s only a 15 minute ride, but I couldn’t stay awake for it all I was so tired at this point. I got to Terminal 4 at about 5:10 and didn’t see my flight listed. A British Air person told me that I needed to be in Terminal 1 instead and that if I ran I might make it. Run? I still had almost two hours until takeoff! Anyway, I took the advice and ran. Literally.
I had to wait 15 minutes or so for the connecting train back to the original terminal and once there, I then ran some more. This time with someone else in the same predicament, although his flight was even 40 minutes before mine. We chatted as we ran; I found out he was from Frankfurt and thought Boston was a lovely place. I didn’t have much to say back, being already tired and running, so I just sort of smiled back at him and wished him a good flight. Anyway, I guess I forget that not everyplace has insane security lines like the US (thanks TSA!); I breezed right through the line and got to the departures board, panting, only to find my flight not even having a gate assigned yet. Awesome. I use my last £2 to buy a bottle of water for the flight, freshen up as best I could, and hear my flight called the minute I sat down to charge my phone. I headed down to the gate, waited for a while there and boarded no problem.
I got there just before she did and was a little worried my phone would die before we connected, but no problems there. It was really good to see her; it’s probably been a few years at this point. In fact, I think it was when the Red Sox won the world series and she and a friend came up for the parade.
We basically walked around for a few hours. First to get some food from the foodhall at Marks & Spencer, and then to Hyde Park to sit and eat. It pretty cloudy out, but nice enough to sit on the grass and hang out for a bit. From there, we walked over to Buckingham Palace about which my comment was, “Dude, that shit is crazy opulent!” It was such a weird building: very grand but stoic stone building, with all of this ornate gold stuff on the fence and gate. Seemed pretty British like that, I guess.
By that point it was like 3:20 and my flight was at 7, so I needed to start heading back. We meandered back, got a little lost a few times, and then finally got back to the train station around 4:40. I had just missed a Connect train and after thinking about it a bit, I opted to pay for an Express ticket rather than be getting to the airport at 5:30, even if it was another $30. I got on the train, and got off to check the board with the terminal information on it to double check that I was going to the right place, and got back on. It’s only a 15 minute ride, but I couldn’t stay awake for it all I was so tired at this point. I got to Terminal 4 at about 5:10 and didn’t see my flight listed. A British Air person told me that I needed to be in Terminal 1 instead and that if I ran I might make it. Run? I still had almost two hours until takeoff! Anyway, I took the advice and ran. Literally.
I had to wait 15 minutes or so for the connecting train back to the original terminal and once there, I then ran some more. This time with someone else in the same predicament, although his flight was even 40 minutes before mine. We chatted as we ran; I found out he was from Frankfurt and thought Boston was a lovely place. I didn’t have much to say back, being already tired and running, so I just sort of smiled back at him and wished him a good flight. Anyway, I guess I forget that not everyplace has insane security lines like the US (thanks TSA!); I breezed right through the line and got to the departures board, panting, only to find my flight not even having a gate assigned yet. Awesome. I use my last £2 to buy a bottle of water for the flight, freshen up as best I could, and hear my flight called the minute I sat down to charge my phone. I headed down to the gate, waited for a while there and boarded no problem.
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