The Bemis's and I headed into London by noon so I could catch my flight home and they would spend a day at the museums. We thought I had plenty of time as I did not see any construction, or engineering as the Brits say, on the railways when we checked online. When we got to King's Cross where we would separate, Dale thought since I had over 3 hours to get to Heathrow and I was a hop, skip and a jump away, we could wander to the new railway, St. Pancras Train Station. Little did I know I would be in for a travel day from hell. The newly renovated train station was fantastic. Even the locals were ooing and awing taking pictures.
Now Europe is a hop, skip and a jump away. We then wandered the streets of London to walk to a different Underground station just so I could take in the city-feel of London. All the monuments and statues are lined with wreaths of poppies for Remembrance Day. As we walked to Euston station, Dale points out the street where the 7/7 bombings occurred. Great. That's all I need to know I as will be traveling in crowded trains and planes and I didn't know yet that I would be running to catch a crowded bus.With many big hugs, I was on my way. I nervously positioned myself on the steep escalator descending to the Tube. No problem. I get off the Victoria line to get the Piccadilly Circus line. I eyed up all the people waiting to board. As I started to sweat, I could not take off my jacket because I knew I would have little time to board if I wanted to catch this next train. It came and was packed. It didn't seem like there was any space to board even though people did exit the train. I moved with the masses and I needed to be a bit aggressive to board as I had my luggage with me. Packed like sardines, the air was thick and people were surprisingly friendly as my baggage were up their arses. Two stops later, most of the people departed the train. I took off my jacket and stuck my head out of the train's doors to breath. I relaxed for the rest of the journey nibbling on my animal crackers and salty pretzels from home. At the Hammersmith platform, I failed to listen to the announcments. The doors closed and heard a familar platform, Cockfosters, which was
heading in the direction I came from. I had a panicked look on my face and I must have been mumbling to myself as a mother asked if I was alright. I asked if I should have gotten off at that stop as I needed to get to Heathrow. The next stop came quickly and they, all in the family, encouraged me to get off and go back to the Hammersmith stop and look for the replacement buses that were taking travelers to the Acton Town to get back on the Underground to get to Heathrow.As I mentioned in a post from November 24, 2007, King's College Chapel, where I just posted it today (December 18th), I am a little behind on my postings.
I will continue this saga with another post. Of course, you know I survived but I must rant about the rest of the departing transportation adventure later. Tootaloo!
