Getting to London

Well, today was quite the adventure. A very long adventure. My flight from Salt Lake to New York was scheduled to leave at 2, but, as per Delta's recommendations for international flights, we got to the airport at about 11:30. The airport was really empty, so we got through security super fast, which gave us plenty of time to wait around in the airport, which is one of life's greatest pleasures. We finally boarded our flight and set off for New York City. We got to NYC at about 9:00 local time and then set off again at 10:30, this time crossing the mighty Atlantic. There was a lovely in-flight meal offered: barbecue chicken mixed with mashed potatoes and assorted sketchy vegetables, along with a rather stale-ish roll, a cinnamon-flavored brownie, a salad, and a rectangle of cheese. All of my favorites. The entertainment, however, did not disappoint. I meant to get a better start on Wuthering Heights, but the movie selection on this flight was out of control. There were seriously pages and pages of movies for my viewing pleasure, and I simply didn't have enough time. It was fantastic, and I thus did not sleep at all on the flight.
It was in Heathrow Airport that things got a little sketchy. Every other girl in my group wooshed through customs like they owned the country, and I got the customs Nazi. She probably grilled me for about twenty minutes about what "Bingham" Young University was and how much money I had with me and did I really expect to be able to survive in London for seven weeks with only 80 pounds and how much my program cost and how much money did I have on my credit cards and what was I studying and why did the customs letter say that the program started two days ago and on and on. I had already been nervous about international travel, plus in Utah time it was about 4 am and I hadn't slept at all, so I'm sure I didn't express myself too well. Anyhow, she did eventually let me into the lovely country of Great Britain. I promptly slipped and fell down to express my excitement. After I collected all my things from the ground, though not necessarily my pride, I headed off with some of the other girls for the London Underground.
Here lay another problem: a Tube strike. We were supposed to take the Piccadilly Line to Hammersmith, which I was very excited about, as Hammersmith is where Estella lives for part of Great Expectations, but Hammersmith station was closed. We thought we had averted the problem by switching trains slightly earlier, but alas, the station we needed was another of the closed ones. We got off at the next stop and started walking. What commenced was a humiliating Bataan death march. Humiliating because I was part of a nine-person long luggage parade marching through London receiving weary glances from locals that plainly said, "there go the Americans." We all got outrageously sweaty, but after an interminable journey, we finally made it to Metrogate, Queen's Gate Terrace, our home for the next twelve days, at which time we will move to the newly renovated BYU London Centre. I am extremely tired and hungry, but I'm very excited. Little things, like seeing cars actually driving on the other side of the road make me outrageously happy. I'm looking forward to what tomorrow will bring, once I'm rested and don't have to drag my luggage everywhere.