London Calling

Arrived in London yesterday.

My flights worked out well after some confusion.

I had reserved a window seat, but for some reason I was placed in a center seat at the back of the plane.

Forcing a 6ft4 man to take an international flight in a middle seat should be banned by the Geneva Convention.

I was going to just suck it up and endure, but I decided to chance my luck and my limited charm, so I spoke with the woman from the airlines about a seat change.

The flight was oversold with a waiting list, but she managed to get me an aisle seat in Economy Plus (4 extra inches of leg room!).

To my surprise, no one was seated next to me. The plane was just about to take off when a flight attendant asked me if the seat next to me was taken. After a brief flirtation with the idea of saying. "Why yes it is. My wife is just in the bathroom and will be back shortly. Go ahead and take off ", the better angels of my nature took over and I told them the truth.

Thankfully the stand-by passenger that ended up sitting next to me was good company, and he gave me some helpful advice about navigating my way from the airport to my hotel.

Getting from Heathrow to Victoria station started off well. The aiport was the first stop on the line so I easily got a seat and space for my four bags. When I changed trains at Baron's Court, however, the nightmare began.

London at rush-hour is not the best time to travel on the Tube. When my train arrived it was packed like a phone booth full of fraternity brothers. The doors opened and people just rolled their eyes and gave me and my luggage hateful withering looks.

I let two trains go by before I mustered the courage to storm the car. Thankfully, I was able to enter with my bags without injuring anyone.

When I arrived at Victoria station I had to climb four flights of stairs against the flow of hundreds of stampeding commuters heading the opposite direction. After I emerged above ground I had the pleasure of waiting in a rainstorm for 30 minutes to get a taxi to my hotel.

Needless to say I am considering other options for my return trip to the airport.

After a shower and a quiet day at the hotel, I awoke this morning with plans to explore London a bit. First was Buckingham Palace. I arrived after the Changing of the Guard. The flag was raised, so I knew the Queen was in. I was hoping she would emerge, but she was otherwise indisposed. It would have been great if she had opened a window and dangled a baby out of it--a la Michael Jackson--alas it was not to be, so I moved on.

Next I went to Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. I took some pictures, but they turned out quite fuzzy. I tried to visit 10 Downing Street, but it was blocked with security.

Finally after eating a Cornish Pastie with a crust the consistency of a wooden shoe, I made my way to the British Museum.

The museum had a fantastic collection of antiquities. It houses the Rosetta Stone and Cleopatra's mummy. The Roman and Greek collections were also quite extensive. I noticed that most of the statues had either their noses or genitalia broken off. The ravages of aging are a sobering reality.

Tomorrow I will visit the Imperial War Museum and attend an evensong service at Westminster Abby or St. Paul's Cathedral.

I will write more when I get to Romania.