Londontown

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Have I really been at this a week?

My stomach was in knots the day of my departure last Thursday. I was a ball of giddiness and nausea, excitement and apprehension as I made my way to Dulles. The metro ride was no longer a metro ride, but a catapault, an usher into the first leg of my trip. A normally mundane and quite annoying series of stops, waits, and go's took on new importance and dignity this time around. The day thus far had been a more chaotic than necessary, and I still felt a little hurried from the day's events--a frantic search for a battery charger, brunch AND a bottle of wine with DC's best of the best, and a record breaking packing session that left me convinced I was still forgetting something (flip flops).

My path to the airport was strewn with tasty little images--Barack Obama's doppleganger on my bus, a store called "America!", and across from my gate, a room where the smokers among us were separated and caged behind glass. Some were hunched over and pondered each drag of their cigarette, others stood staring out the window like melancholic zoo monkeys plotting their revenge...

The chaos of the day behind me, my bags checked and stowed, and my seatbelt buckled, I let myself relax a bit as I contemplated my seven hour plane ride to Heathrow. Polite and plucky hostesses dressed in red helped the other travelers onto a full flight. I admired their perfect make-up and big buns of hair perched like birdsnests on their heads. Jaunty British accents. I spent the rest of the flight floating in out of a drammamine induced sleep.

After a weekend of good friends, good food, and good beer, I find myself alone in Regent's Park. Big street sweepers troll the boulevards like tanks, dispersing golden brown leaves into the gullys. Few people are here on a Monday afternoon, and most of them are speaking languages I can only guess at. I spend a few hours getting lost on the pathways and enjoying the last of the good weather I am likely to experience on this trip. Roses are miraculously still in bloom, though some look as though they are melting off their stems as in a Dali painting. The changing of the seasons is evident but not complete; some flowers hang on while others deaden. They have names like Emily Hawkins, Cassius, Sunkissed, Tiddles, Bruce, Can-Can, and Conspicuous...I like this. It seems very....British.

I am finding it difficult to record everything I want to put down, but that's how it goes. Next entry will be from the land of smiles...

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Comments

[Kathy Manning]

feels like I'm there
Beautiful descriptions Kait! Is this going to get published? Thinking about you all day today as you head out to Thailand, and wishing you an amazing trip. Can't wait for the next installment. Love luv

[anonymous]

Ah my darling! I am so jealous! I miss London with every fiber of my being.

[MoveItManning]

Aw, thanks drunk married couple! Miss you guys--I know you would have a blast here. The drinks flow like water....there's a place where you can get actual BUCKETS of "strong drinks". Buckets I tell you!

[Kip Pierson]

Well done.
You're a good writer Miss Kaitlin. A good writer indeed.