England 2005 - Chapter 2
Saturday, May 21, 2005 - 1:30pm
OH THE HOTEL
Chaos...where to begin...?
(note...in England the side of the road is the KERB not the CURB...weird)
ANYWAYS....
So I get into London and everything is good, except that I don't have the -exact- address of the hotel I've booked to de-jet-lag myslef. I have the basic directions and it should be no problem. I walk for a good 20 minutes. Just before 8am, sleep deprived, slowly becoming hysterical. I've tried calling the hotel twice, no answer. They had better be there. They had better be ready for me. I'm almost two hours later than I expected I'd be, lots of time to sleep...lost.
I return to the tube (subway) station where I got off and speak to the man selling papers. He is a great help and I'm on my way again. Shortly before 8am I arrive. I ring the day betll...oops, and then I ring the night bell. The lad setting up breakfast for the guests lets me in. He is not Barry, the man I spoke with when I booked over the phone. This guy speaks very poor English and appears to understand even less, smiling and nodding his head at my hysterical questions. Then Barry comes upstairs and hooks me up with a key to the room. The room is on the third floor and it's all stairs. I'm already hot and sweaty from the walk, but all I want to do is get some, what is passing for as, sleep, these days.
I can't get my bag in the room, the door opens and hits the side of the bed. Up & over with the suitcase. I am soooooooooooo overtired, cranky, frustrated and possibly a little bit home sick. I just want to cry. I'm not home sick for any one or thing in particular, but for familiarity.
I open the window. I close the blinds. I crawl into the tiny but surprisingly comfortable, crisp little bed.
Not bad really. Cheapest I could find that was available for my strange early morning request. I might just stay here at the end of the week when I'm back in London...why not?
OH THE HOTEL
Chaos...where to begin...?
(note...in England the side of the road is the KERB not the CURB...weird)
ANYWAYS....
So I get into London and everything is good, except that I don't have the -exact- address of the hotel I've booked to de-jet-lag myslef. I have the basic directions and it should be no problem. I walk for a good 20 minutes. Just before 8am, sleep deprived, slowly becoming hysterical. I've tried calling the hotel twice, no answer. They had better be there. They had better be ready for me. I'm almost two hours later than I expected I'd be, lots of time to sleep...lost.
I return to the tube (subway) station where I got off and speak to the man selling papers. He is a great help and I'm on my way again. Shortly before 8am I arrive. I ring the day betll...oops, and then I ring the night bell. The lad setting up breakfast for the guests lets me in. He is not Barry, the man I spoke with when I booked over the phone. This guy speaks very poor English and appears to understand even less, smiling and nodding his head at my hysterical questions. Then Barry comes upstairs and hooks me up with a key to the room. The room is on the third floor and it's all stairs. I'm already hot and sweaty from the walk, but all I want to do is get some, what is passing for as, sleep, these days.
I can't get my bag in the room, the door opens and hits the side of the bed. Up & over with the suitcase. I am soooooooooooo overtired, cranky, frustrated and possibly a little bit home sick. I just want to cry. I'm not home sick for any one or thing in particular, but for familiarity.
I open the window. I close the blinds. I crawl into the tiny but surprisingly comfortable, crisp little bed.
Not bad really. Cheapest I could find that was available for my strange early morning request. I might just stay here at the end of the week when I'm back in London...why not?
posted by PrincessDoubt @ 12:06 p.m.
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