As one of my favorite saying goes, "Nothing is ever easy!" Here in London this saying reigns; buying groceries, getting to work, getting ready for work (no outlets in the bathroom) -- it's all hard. But, I persevere because I am woman, hear me roar... okay, I'm getting carried away.
On Saturday night, I went to dinner with a really great woman who is originally from New York. Before leaving my, flat I mapped out my way there and my way back; I have learned the hard way that prior mapping is a necessity here in this city. I set out confidently with my handwritten travel plans tucked away in my purse. I arrived safely and fairly unfrazzled at the City Road Station but was a bit put off by the amount of begging homeless, trash in the corners and graffiti on the walls. Up until that point I had not seen much of this in London. To my amusement and bewilderment, a gaggle of girls, approximately aged 18 - 22, came spilling out of the train station wearing my clothes from the 80's! They had on fluorescent pink tops with black minis and black tights with matching fluorescent pink ballet flats or stilettos (where does one buy fluorescent shoes in 2009??). They looked like a girl band that had gotten lost in a time machine and were transported into the future. While there were some other fluorescent colors, pink was the color of choice. My friend arrived (thankfully she was not wearing the girl band colors) and we began walking toward the restaurant. The neighborhood changed quickly to trendy restaurants and people in proper dinner attire. We had a lovely dinner at an eclectic restaurant (think nature meets industrial decor). I cannot say enough about how fabulous it was to talk with an American. I did not realize how much I missed the simple interaction of dinner with a fellow-American.
Here in London, it is normal protocol to stay at a restaurant for 3 hours or more. If you want to leave within 1 1/2 hours, it is hard to get the attention of the waiter and to get your bill (they don't call it the check here). Before my friend and I knew it, it was midnight and we were tired and talked out. After finally getting the bill and leaving, my friend informed me that we needed to figure out which bus to take home. Bus? My travel plans did not include a bus.
"What about the tube?" I asked.
"The tubes aren't running anymore," she said.
How the hell can the tubes just stop running? A major city like London closes down its hub of transportation at midnight. Are you f**king kidding me? I keep all this to myself as I didn't want to scare my new friend. After nearly 10 minutes of walking to bus stops and reading the routes, we figure out which routes to take but we had to part ways due to our living in opposite directions within the city. I suddenly found myself alone at 12:30 AM at a bus stop among drunk people, and I had just missed the bus. I quickly learned that night buses run every 20 minutes; so there I was with the drunks for 20 long minutes. Thankfully, Stacey kept me company on my blackberry during the ordeal. Let me also add here, that once I got on the bus and took the 20 minute ride, it would not let me off in my neighborhood. I would have to find another bus that would take me home. I was not feeling good about my new travel plans, quite honestly, I felt confused, scared and anxious. I felt even worse when the bus arrived; it was packed with more drunks. I was shuffled on by the masses and was wedged (literally) between three drunk friends, two men and a beefy woman. They decided to talk about me and wonder why I was typing on my blackberry. I let this banter go on for a few moments and then the NJ Girl in me couldn't take it anymore. I knew these types, all ballsy to those they think are timid.
"What do you want to know?" I confronted the beefy gal. She was surprised and suddenly turned nicer. After some high fives (she initiated) and "NJ is close to New York" geography instruction, the trio got off the bus along with most of the other drunks and I sank into a seat and dreamed of my Audi and its door locks. Finally, I reached the end of the bus route and walked toward the closest bus stop. My wedge heels were beginning to hurt and I was getting cranky(er?). The first bus stop was no good, I saw another one up ahead. A bus passed me as I walked to the stop; indeed this was the one I wanted and my bus pulled away without me. Thankfully, I knew my way home from there and decided to walk rather than wait with yet more drunks.
I will spare you the painful steps of my 20 minute journey on foot because to relive it again will only hurt my psyche and my feet all over again. I will say that I successfully scared the daylights out of two young chaps who thought it would be funny to pretend that one of them was falling into me; when the unfortunate fool nearly stepped on my toe I yelled, "What the f**k is wrong with you people?" I clearly had had enough fun with the natives and the Joisey in me could not be held back. The two men ran away and I continued to talk to myself (out loud) the remaining two blocks home.
Upon entering my flat at 1:30 AM, I threw off my shoes, tore up my travel plans and fell into bed exhausted and mad as hell. Maybe eating home alone isn't so bad? That night I dreamed of speeding down route 80 in my car with the windows open, the sun shining and the radio blasting some Dave Matthews -- man, I miss home.
Loathing Public Transportation,
The Temporary European
Take a cab next time!
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