The Many Travel Misadventures of Me

I decided to leave for the airport with the rest of the Tennessee group, even though their flight departed at 3 AM and mine wasn’t until 8:15 AM.  I knew that I would wind up spending the entire night in the Larnaca airport, but this seemed like a better option than spending a lot of money on a 45-kilometer taxi ride.

When we got to the airport, Danielle and I watched as the rest of my group checked in.  Or at least tried to.  They were flying on Lufthansa and the baggage restrictions were one free checked bag that weighed no more than 23 kg and one carry-on piece that weighed no more than 8 kg.  Well, in America we are allowed two carry on pieces, one that fits in the overhead compartment and one that fits under the seat in front of you.  So after arguing, and rearranging the contents of every piece of luggage, and finally paying to have additional bags checked, Danielle and I bid farewell to the Tennessee students as they headed off through security.

Danielle, another study abroad student from America, was ironically taking the same flight as me to London since she was going to visit some of her friends who were studying there.  I was beyond grateful that I wouldn’t have to sit in the lobby of the airport by myself until I was allowed to check in at 6:15 AM.

Watching the hassle that my group went through in checking their luggage, made me nervous, so Danielle and I decided to try remedying any potential weight issues before they occurred at check-in.  Ridiculously, Aegean Airlines (which is the carrier we were flying) requires the checked bag to be 20 kg or less.  That’s almost six pounds lighter than 23 kg, which makes a BIG difference.  We got my suitcase down to 20.1 kg, but I couldn’t get my carry-on under 10 kg.  Fortunately, Aegean didn’t require me to weigh my carry-on.

So Danielle and I, having been awake for almost 24 hours by the time we finally took off, headed to London with virtually no problems along the way.  And, when we got to Heathrow, we made it through customs and retrieved our baggage with no issues. 

That’s where the “fun” began.

It was a little tricky figuring out where the Underground (Metro, tube, whichever term you prefer to use) was located from the baggage claim.  Once there, we knew that she and I had different final destinations but that we were traveling on the same trains for the majority of the time.  So I finally got an attendant to assist me in purchasing the right metro ticket (for 5 pounds). 

We got on the first tube (the Piccadilly line) with no problems.  We got off the Piccadilly at Green Park with no issues and found the Jubilee line.  This is when people started elbowing me and cutting in front of me (who was toting around two rolling pieces of luggage and a backpack), eventually making me miss the train.  As the doors were closing, I put my hand out to try prying open the door so that I might get on.

Just so you know, metro doors are not like elevator doors. Once they start closing, they are GOING to close and you are out of luck.

I only had to wait another two minutes for the next Jubilee and took it to Waterloo station.  At Waterloo I began to feel like Napoleon: defeated.

I knew I had to switch from the underground to an actual train, which would carry me to Southampton.  So I went to the ticket machine and purchased a ticket (for 34 pounds) with a final destination of Southampton Central.  I looked up at the train schedule and noticed that all trains were delayed and none of them had Southampton as a destination.

I asked an attendant which train I should take to Southampton and was promptly informed that no train actually goes from Waterloo Station to Southampton Central.  Furthermore, all trains were indefinitely delayed because someone managed to get hit by a train at Wimbledon and therefore all trains were on hold until further notice.

By this time it was almost 2 PM (4 PM Cyprus time), I’d been awake since 8 AM the previous morning, and I hadn’t eaten in over 12 hours. 

So my luggage and I bumped and jostled our way into a Burger King and had a quick bite to eat since I didn’t know what else to do.  Then, having a little more coherence thanks to some kind of nourishment, I went to information and asked how I might get to Southampton from Waterloo. 

My knight in neon armor was a lady who not only told to take any of the trains to Clapham Junction (most of them made a stop there) and then take the train from Platform 13 (I secretly hoped she’d say 9 and ¾) to Southampton, but she also took the time to write it down in case I forgot.  I must have looked like a touristy, American mess.

 Shortly after, a train rolled into the station at platform 7 and I asked the attendant next to me if that train would take me to Clapham Junction.  He said yes and I bolted for the train, determined that I wouldn’t be left.

The train arrived at Clapham Junction after about 30 minutes and, within ten more minutes; I was finally on a train heading to Southampton.

So here I was, deliriously exhausted, fading in and out of sleep on this train, trying to stay awake for fear of missing my station and trying to watch the English countryside as it rolled by my window.  After seeing numerous castles (they really ARE everywhere!) in my waking, lucid moments, the train finally rolled into the Southampton Central Station an hour and a half later. 

After a (25 pound) taxi ride, I was finally at my hotel.  I checked in, ordered room service (even though I knew it was a little pricier, I was too exhausted to wander to a restaurant where I would have to wait for service) and then passed out for the night.

The next two days were spent doing a lot of nothing.  I made a point to go to the gym and enjoy the hot tub, sauna and steam room.  But other than that, I took the time to recuperate from the insanely long travel day I’d have between Cyprus and Southampton.

Saturday couldn’t arrive fast enough.  I was ready to see Jeremy and begin my first-ever cruise, to the Norwegian Fjords!!