There's No Place Like London

So quoth Sweeney Todd, and I heartily agree! However, I speak with much more affection for the city than does Mister Todd.

This being my first time back in London since my first visit two years ago, I still got starry-eyed getting off the train, still got blown away by the majesty of Buckingham Palace, still reveled in riding the Tube, and still found myself jubilantly excited to visit touristy places like the Tower of London.

But let me back up a few hours. We still had to get ourselves to London.

Now, we've all heard travel horror stories (and many have stories of their own)--deportation, sleeping in the airport for days on end, emergency landings, etc. I can say that I am lucky enough to have had relatively few of these, and none to that scale. The Eurostar train from Bruxelles-Midi to London's St. Pancras was probably the closest I've come to adding a travel terror to my repertoire of "notable life experiences."

We left late from our apartment. The Eurostar website recommended 45 minutes before departure to obtain tickets and run through customs, etc. I decided, being the time stickler that I am, that we should get there an hour early, just in case. Since the train left at 7:59, we were to get there at 7:00. Apparently an hour early is equivalent to 35 minutes? Mmm. In any case, we left the flat 50 minutes before departure and faced a 10 minute bus/metro ride before we even reached the station. The bus was late, the metro slow...not fun. Those 10 minutes turned into 13, and minutes were money.

We finally got to the ticket counter with 35 minutes to go and successfully picked up our 4 tickets. 30 minutes.

Lizzi was sitting first class, having booked later than us and that being cheaper than 2nd class? Okay. So she didn't have to go through check-in and moved right on to customs. However, the rest of us stood in a massive line just to check our tickets. Luckily the queue was moving relatively quickly and we made it to the front in about 15 minutes. Fifteen minutes before the train leaves.

Passport check. Another line. Moves somewhat quickly because there were three checking stations. 10 minutes.

Border control. We were standing in line when a woman came over to us and asked if we had filled out our landing cards yet. What's a landing card?! We head over to the table frantically writing our names, numbers, addresses, etc. Pens weren't working. We didn't know what several things meant, but filled them in anyway. 4 minutes.

Back in line for Border Control. Brandon and Nicole move through ahead of me (Lizzi is already through and on the train at this point). The control guard asked me what I'm doing in London--"touring"--what I want to see--"The Tower"--have I been before--"just once." He then proceeded to start recommending a whole list of places to visit, my heart rate increasing by the millisecond. My train leaves in 2 minutes.

I hurriedly excuse myself and the three of us start sprinting down the station, taking the advice of a passing guard that London train is "just to the left, but you'd better hurry." Heck yes we'd better. These tickets are non-refundable! Worst of all, Lizzi was on the train already with no way of contacting us and no idea where the hostel is or what to do in London once she arrived.

We continue sprinting up a 'gangplank' for lack of a better word and come out onto the quay, leaping onto the first open car. Shuffling through the aisles looking for our proper car and seats, we finally find them and sit down. Time? 7:59. The train starts moving.

*phew*

Disaster narrowly avoided.