London Calling

Hi!

Again, I must apologize. My blogging skills just are not quite up to par. I really do have all of these wonderful intentions of keeping on top of things...and it just does not happen quite as frequently as it should.

Anyway, with apologies out of the way...

I went to London last weekend! Oh my gosh, what a FABULOUS place! I loved it, I just love love loved it!

The weekend started with Julie flying in on Friday afternoon (yay!). Unfortunately, her flight was two hours late. This began the chain of events that led to the start of our "Arriving in London Adventure."

Upon the late arrival of her flight, we raced to my apartment to get my things, drop one of her bags off, and hurry to the other airport to catch our flight. As you might imagine, the tardiness of her flight led to missing our flight to London. Luckily, we were able to get on a flight that was supposed to leave and land only an hour later than planned. Obviously this didn't happen. Our next flight was almost an hour late, then it took another hour to get through customs, meaning that we finally had our bags approximately two and a half hours later than planned. No big deal, right? Wrong.

So began the chain of events. Upon getting our luggage and such, we obtained our train tickets that we had pre-purchased to get to the city. Easy enough. Unfortunately, what we learned from the nice gentleman at the rental car booth, was that the last train left the airport at 1:30 a.m.....it was now 1:45. Luckily, the nice person at the bus stop informed us that we could take the "National Express" night bus to the same station the train was suppsed to stop at--it would only take an extra half an hour. With no other options, we somewhat happily obliged. An hour and fifteen minutes later, we found ourselves being dropped off in front of the now closed Liverpool Street Station...in the pouring rain no less. After getting our luggage, and our bearings, we hailed a cab and made our way towards what was to be our home away from home for a few days, the Metro Hotel.

Still in the rain, the cab dropped us off. We got to the door only to find that it was locked, with a sign instructing us to call a phone number. We started to dial, only to see someone leaving the hotel to head home, meaning we were able to make it inside and out of the cold and rain. So we got upstairs to the check-in area, assuming that someone would be there to greet us (the hotel advertised 24 hour reception, and we had called a few days prior to arriving to let them know that we had an evening flight). Not true. We started to call the hotel over and over again, hoping that an attendant would hear and come to our assistance. Finally, when it became clear that nothing was going to be happening, we decided it best to go behind the counter ourselves and see which room was to be ours. Number one. So, bravely, and with the feeling that I was going to get into some sort of trouble, I grabbed the key and tip toed down the hall, peeking in the door to our room. Cracking the door open just a bit to see inside...and I saw a leg. The room we were supposed to stay in was clearly occupied, and our chances of sleeping there were entirely gone.

So we went back to calling the front desk. Much to our disappointment, another guest came out to use the facilities and informed us that the gentlemen that run the hotel are not actually there 24 hours a day...they leave in the evening. Feeling somewhat defeated, we called twice more, left a somewhat but not entirely rude note, then decided to give up and evaluate our options. The options were: the Burger King down the street, and the Hilton that was attached to the Paddington Street Station right across the street from us.

What do two, smart, twenty-somethings with savings accounts and credit cards do in this sort of dire situation? They go to the Hilton. So we did. We ran out of our hotel, into the rain, and across the street to the hotel...only to be told that they were entirely booked and we should go down the street to the Hilton Metropole.

Obviously, at 4:20ish a.m. there was to be no walking down the dark street in the dark city we don't know. So we grabbed our second cab of the evening and went up the road.

Getting into the hotel, the nice gentleman at the desk knew that we were involved in some sort of very sad situation. I think the mix of exhaustion, annoyance, and being soaked really did it. At any rate, we told him our sad sad tale and he, after a conference with his coworker, gave us a deal on a lovely room for the evening...complete with breakfast and a 2:00 p.m. checkout.

So, a few (like 9) hours later, we checked out of the Hilton and went back to the Metro Hotel, ready to rumble if necessary.

Upon walking in, we discovered that the young man running the hotel was from the Czech Republic, and his English was not the best. Clearly taking control of our advantage, we launched into a somewhat cordial yet pointed tirade about our troubles the evening before, the measures we had taken to be prepared, and how we had decided that it was unacceptable for us to be forced to pay for the hotel for the evening that we did not stay there.

Somewhat frightened and entirely overwhelmed, he agreed wholeheartedly, offering numerous apologies for their mistake and giving us the keys to our room for the next three days.

Not bad. Not bad at all. :)