Remember the time we were in London and we accidentally got separated in the Tube?
And I’m STILL laughing.
I LOVE to plan trips. LOVE LOVE LOVE! But sometimes when you travel with certain people, you’re held accountable for logistics and decisions that rest solely on your shoulders.
And THAT is jacked. And yet, I did the vast majority of the planning. Again.
So we were in London. I commented at Heathrow that we’d be taking the Piccadilly line on the London Underground to the Gloucester Road station, since it was nearest the AirBnB I’d found in the South Kensington area. I remarked (pointedly, I might add) again about our destination station after I’d located it on the system map on the train. And then, at the stop just before ours, I told Tigger that I was going to hoist my backpack and move toward the doors in preparation.
The doors opened after the train had stopped at Gloucester Road. Having never been on the Tube before, I made sure to “mind the gap” as I alighted. I stepped clear of the car, adjusted my daypack, and turned to Tigger….
…who was staring at me in confused panic as the train hurled itself down the next tunnel, carrying him along like a leaf.
Apparently, my admonitions had fallen on deaf ears. I quickly figured out that I had no cell service in the belly of the London Underground, so I wandered up to Cromwell Road, thinking that either A) Tigger would disembark at the next stop, catch a train going in the opposite direction, and VOILA! appear at the Gloucester Road station, or B) Tigger would disembark at the next stop, curse and rend his hair, catch an Uber to our AirBnB and call it good.
I managed to cross the street in front of the station without getting run over and did what every inexperienced and temporarily insecure American tourist does.
I grabbed a skinny latte at Starbucks and thoughtfully considered my situation.
Fortunately, a few minutes later it was apparent that Tigger had elected Option A when he emerged, mostly unscathed, from the Gloucester Road station. We laughed and reminisced (“Hey! Remember five minutes ago when…?”) as we made our way through the streets of South Kensington.
And then, we found a bar.
Hink is an aspiring traveler plotting global domination and looking for the funny.
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