Safe as Houses

I’m home, and happy.

It was a very good trip. I’ve seen the few London sights that were still on my list, and I talked to some very nice people – It was so nice that Mark in the antique shop remembered me. He explained some antiques to me when I didn’t understand what they were used for, and we chatted about upper class fascism.

I had a nice chat with an elderly couple on a bench in front of Saint Mary le Strand. I had complimented her dress and scarf — in our baggy, drapey clothes, she and I looked like twins. LOL

The commuters that stopped to help me out at Victoria Station were so lovely, so kind. Last night, a mom in the airport emptied her shopping bag and rushed over when she saw my crappy paper bag from the store had broken and everything fell out.

And with these pleasant memories, it’s time for me to retire from major international travel. Although my insides are perfectly operational, my outsides don’t carry me around as easily anymore, especially in a marathon situation. Walking with the stick (which I actually enjoy) makes it hard to carry anything. Even just the air travel. It’s too much — 14 hours door to door with no sleep, lots of walking, waiting, chaos, carrying, confusion, crowds.

Assistance & disabilities services at the airports might be even more humiliating and unpleasant than trying to walk it, dealing with the pain, and falling. It’s appalling that people are treated this way under the guise of an airport appearing kind and helpful. I’m working on a separate post about this.

It’s lovely to be home with Jonathan and my pups, and it’s awfully nice to have my comfortable routine back.

Have a great sleep!

*Peekskill Waterfront — photo via Miss Bonafide, TripAdvisor*

Itinerantur Interruptus

Fiascos, London

“Help!! I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up!”

Ready for a great story?

I left my hotel on time this morning, hopped on the tube at Monument, and wended my way to Victoria Station to catch the Gatwick Express.

Victoria wasn’t crowded — rush-hour had passed. Nice! As I stepped onto a short flight of steps down to the station floor, it hit me. Or rather, they hit me.

A family with two running children either knocked me forward onto the stairs or kicked my stick out from underneath me. I’m not sure which. I landed a step or three from the bottom, breaking the fall with my hands and rolling down the last few steps.

The contents of my tote bag were all over the place, my phone and stick scuttled across the pavement, the juice I was drinking was now all over the ground (and me).

Many stopped to help — gathering my stuff and putting it back in my bag; retrieving my suitcase, phone, and stick. Two helped get me up.

People really are generally very kind when someone needs help. Except the family that knocked me over. They kept moving speedily to their train. (One of the helpers told me.) I’m not going to get into it, but you may refer to the list of “worst tourists” I posted earlier in the week.

Paramedics showed up and insisted on checking me out. I argued, but they talked some sense into me. Good vitals, nothing broken. A bone-bruised hip; and I hurt my wrist, something short of a sprain. I missed two trains and took the third.

By the time I got to the airport, my plane was already boarding. No way on earth I was going to get through security and to the gate at an international airport before this plane took off.

Now I’m a bit panicky. The awesome Assistance Center sorted me out. I explained what had happened. They gave me a comfortable place to sit down, hooked me up with good Internet, and explained I should switch my flight before it took off so I would still get the credit. JetBlue wanted $1600 extra to switch my flight to tomorrow. I said, “no thank you,” went to their website, cancelled it myself. I got 40,000 points and a few hundred bucks back. Which otherwise would’ve been gone along with $1400 more. Jerks.

I booked on another airline for $400, and checked into the terminal hotel I like. It is literally ten feet from the Assistance Center, at which I will present myself tomorrow morning. Why?

They insisted they put me in the buggy and drive me through luggage drop, security, and to the gate.

Ropy & Regnant

London

I woke up at ten, feeling a little ropy.

Experience told me I was having a day where it’ll be afternoon before I’m feeling up to much. I took a shower and a walk outside to see how I felt when upright. Yes, indeed. My stomach wasn’t quite with me, and my feet were not quite footing. No sad face though, I’m used to it and I knew it would pass by noon or one.

I emailed my friend at the church here to say I wasn’t feeling well, and would probably not make it in for one o’clock to play. (It’s no big deal, I was simply going to be playing for my own pleasure and for tourists visiting.)

I decided I’d walk down to the Tower of London (a block away) where there are shops, views, people, and of course, a castle. I could also hop on the Thames Clippers at the pier if I wanted to go for a boat ride. And so I did.

I stopped off at Greenwich to take a few photos and change boats. (Switching to a different boat would let me ride around longer.) At Greenwich, I didn’t do much. Just took in the sights a bit.

This entrance to the Greenwich Foot Tunnel takes you down underneath the river, where you can walk a damp tunnel to the other side … maybe another day. I got a great photo of the Battersea power station on the way back — it’s decommissioned, and now one of these mall/apartments/entertainment center type places.

By about five-thirty, it was time for the normal people to gather in noisy groups to go get their dinner. I was starting to mutter about them under my breath, so I got off early at Blackfriars and walked up to Saint Paul’s to catch a bus the rest of the way. I found the following handy chart to be absolutely, positively accurate.