Leaving from London

I will start off by admitting (ugh another confession you say?  Yes!) that I am a bit of a Negative Nelly today, for I have determined that the Brits are the most perturbing of
all of the people I have encountered along my journey.  Now this could be due to the fact that they are way too similar to Americans – ignorant, lazy, paranoid, and deeply confused.  Or it could be because their food and weather just plain suck arse – both are drab and dreary.  Possibly it could be that Spain, Italy and, yes, even France set the bar quite a bit higher when it comes to good food, good drink and interesting things to do and see.  If you don’t care about the Royal Family, London doesn’t have much more to offer that you couldn’t get in American cities like New York or DC – except maybe for Big Ben…..Big WHOOP.  Most likely, though, I am whiny because it is cold, crabby because it is raining and really just plain ready to be home.  The only old building I saw was the old St.Pancras church, recently converted to a 5-star hotel (I am not sure I could even afford the pain aux chocolats they had available in the lobby for guests of the hotel, so I opted out of staying here this trip).
There is the one good thing I have discovered about London – people here are quiet.  They don’t have to tell the whole train that their husband is sleeping with another woman, nor
do they have children that kick the seats on the airplane incessantly (because their children get scolded if they do, unlike Italian mothers who think their sons are all Jesus Christ and walk on water). They also do not yell loud enough for the entire museum to hear that they just received the best enema of their entire life (eat more fiber and less
carbs and you won’t have that problem, lady!).  The Brits are much more discreet than their South European counterparts and for this respite from noise, I am very grateful.  As far as the rest of the city……eh…..if I could have skipped it I would have.   However, London is my mandated departure point back to the States (you are the airline’s bitch when you travel on miles), thus we are stuck with one another for two days and I am pretty sure neither of us is happy about it.
So far I have been harassed by the border patrol, the train police, my hotel operator, and the wait staff at the restaurant I had dinner at last night, so I have retaliated by refusing to admit that I understand English (because really I don’t understand “English”….. when do you suppose the Brits will take the cotton and the marbles out of their mouths before they speak by the way???) and I have reverted to bum-rushing anyone who walks so painstakingly slow on the street that I am sure I could get there faster if I turned around backwards, sat down on my butt and scooted my happy ass across the street (unless of course, they actually NEED to walk that slow because they only have one leg, or a broken foot, or something like that……yes, I am going to hell and I am going to have a good time before I get there, too…..so there!).
Any last shred of humility was lost when the hotel tried to shove me into a room in the basement because that is where their “singles” are.  (Ugh….again with my relationship
status being a factor as to the quality of product I receive?!  No wonder so many sappy pathetic stories about singles finding hope again through love are produced in the UK…GAK!)  I staged a sit-in protest at the front desk until the woman either a.) gave me a new room, or b.) refunded my money so that I could go find a different jail cell to stay in (one without a basement preferably).  She finally relented to my sour-puss scowls and gave me a “double” room…..which is basically means you get a jail sized room with a double bed crammed into it.
As much as I like to impersonate the Brits, you would think I would be eager to see more of London, or that I would like the people, but it turns out the only thing I really do like about the Brits is their accent and I opted out of touring the city to relax in the library and drink
coffee all afternoon.  It is hard to judge after only a couple of days…..then again…I knew Lance was a douche nozzle after our first date, yet I chose to ignore it and well, we all KNOW how that one turned out……Let’s just say that England and I won’t be excited to welcome the other home for Christmas any time soon.  But, things did end on a high note – my last meal was excellent.  I opted for traditional Spanish Tapas (TAH-PAS, not TAa-pass as the ding dong woman seated at the table next to me kept repeating like a broken parrot) – since I did not actually have Spanish food when I arrived in Spain, I thought I would close the loop and have it went I left (in London….how exquisitely ironic….).
Do you think this enough food for one person?!
This morning, I am sitting at the Gatwick Airport both a bit on the melancholy side that my journey has come to an end, but mostly I am excited and happy to be getting on a plane back to the States.  I can’t wait to see my pets, hug my mom, talk to my friends, and sleep in a normal (not jail size) bed in a room fit for the little whiny princess I am!  It truly is the little things that make life sweet, yet are often equated by some to be the “boring parts” of life.  These are the things that we remember when they are gone, or we are away for too long, and usually get so easily over looked.  But, these things have been my anchor when I have felt lost or adrift in the oceans of anger and despair.  These were the things that guided me back home, the home you make in your heart, the home I had pushed aside for all of the wrong reasons for far too long, but these are also the things that kept me going and that I thought about every day while I was away and I am eager to sit my ass for a good long while and enjoy each little thing.

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