Audience: Anyone who has terrible luck with traveling.
Purpose: to explain how to keep calm in a crisis and understand that the journey, (miscommunication, frustration, and all) is just as important as your destination.
If there were an award for most likely to never be on time for anything in their life, I would most certainly win that trophy. I barely have time to brush my teeth in the morning because I’m so pressed for time. This trait, among many others, I inherited from my darling father. The weekend a large group of us decided to trek to Edinburgh was no exception. The ever-popular phrase “here we go again” comes to mind whenever I find myself in these types of predicaments. However, over and over again I somehow find the humor in every situation (usually occurring after the incident) and realize my life in fact did not end because I was tardy or not the first to arrive at a destination.
Our free weekend plans had been decided. We would travel to the picturesque countryside of Scotland and reside for a couple of days in the town of Edinburgh. The train would depart at one o’clock sharp, which left little room for error with time between leaving class, grabbing lunch, and taking the tube to King’s Cross Train Station. We all headed toward the South Kensington tub stop, heavy suitcases in tow, looking as touristy as ever while we chattered excitedly about kilts and haggis, which turned out to be absolutely terrible in case you were wondering. As we all took out our Oyster cards to enter the station, I noticed my friend Jenn’s expression slowly turned from happiness to panic as she dug frantically in her purse. She finally proclaimed “I don’t have my card with me.” Being the only person who had witnessed this, I waited as she bought a one-day travel ticket in order to board the tube. It only took her about three minutes to buy the ticket. But those precious few moments were the deciding factors that altered the course for the rest of the day.
By the time we reached the Piccadilly tube line, our group was nowhere to be found. We impatiently waited for the tube, which usually approaches the stop every 1-3 minutes. But of course, today was quite unusual, and we waited for an excruciating 15 minutes before the tube came to pick us up. The night before, a few of us had timed precisely how long we anticipated our lunch and travel time to take. Then we agreed on a meeting time to head over to the station so we wouldn’t have to rush to make the train. That all flew out the window when we lost those first 3 minutes of travel time. Jenn and I couldn’t believe our series of unfortunate events. Any other day we would have had to just walk a little more briskly through the train station to make our departure time. This day, though, was basically a lost cause. We spoke of our options as we rode the tube to King’s Cross. As one o’clock loomed closer and closer, we decided that our best plan of action would to just take a long lunch and catch the two o’clock train. That would leave us only an hour behind the group. No big deal, right?
King’s Cross seemed unusually crowded for an early Friday morning. It was too crowded to actually sit and eat the leisurely lunch Jenn and I had planned, so instead, we grabbed pre-made sandwiches and fresh fruit and awaited the platform number for our train to be revealed. We had arrived almost 45 minutes early for our train, and we knew the platform numbers weren’t usually shown until 20-25 minutes before departure time. Twenty minutes passed then 25, then 30. At this point we began to sweat a little. Ten minutes is a small window to try and make a train. Finally, the screen flashed the platform number, and the floodgates opened. I pretty certain every single person in King’s Cross was bolting for the same Edinburgh-bound train. We bobbed and weaved our way through the immense crowds, being slightly pushed or jarred with every inch of progress we made. Eventually, we reached the first class carriage. “We’re home free,” I foolishly thought as we boarded.
Once upon the train, we perused first class for a couple of non-reserved first class seats. To our horror, as walked down the aisle it appeared as if every first-class seat was accounted for whether by another patron or reservation. Then as if on cue, the conductor came on over the loudspeaker to announce “this train is almost completely reserved, so if you didn’t make a reservation I would suggest you take another train.” This had to be joke. We became frenzied as we hurried to the next cabin, hoping and praying there were two available seats. Finally we found them, gloriously situated next to one another joined by a table and two other passengers who were already seated. This is when we realized that the two occupants were none other than Susan and her fiancé, Miles, both attending Baylor in Great Britain. It was a Godsend. There’s no doubt in my mind the Lord helped us make it through that day without breaking down into hysterics or deciding the trip wasn’t worth all this added stress.
We ended up having an absolutely wonderful train ride. Complimentary food and beverages were abundant, and Susan and Miles made for excellent conversation and traveling companions. Although we had probably one of the rockiest starts possible to a trip, the journey became one of our favorite and most memorable parts about our excursion to Edinburgh. The “moral” I suppose I took away from this story is to realize that not everything is within our power or control, and that sometimes we need to sit back and just let the journey happen. Now, the destination was equally as satisfying as the journey I will admit. But Jenn and I had a much better story to take away with us to later tell our family than the rest of the group after it was said and done. So I guess that makes us victorious in the end. Perfect.
No comments:
Post a Comment