Europe 2012
I would be 100% lying if I said I wasn’t just a bit anxious as I waited at the airport for my first international solo trip.
I had never been so nervous and excited at the same time in my life. I knew at the time that I was heading off on an adventure most people don’t get to have until they were retired; and, I was happy to be getting a chance to focus on something that was a gain, instead of the recent losses I had experienced.
I would also be lying if I said my mind didn’t flitter from thoughts of excitement about Europe, to thoughts of complete devastation as my final moments with Chloe played over in my mind. I am sure that the sheer amount of new firsts I was having were the only things keeping me from losing my fight not to be a crying mess about what had just happened less than twenty-four hours before.
I had too many distractions for the depressive thoughts to take control at that moment.
Part of me felt bad that I was able to compartmentalize (for the most part) the events of the last month; but, another, and at the time larger part of me was glad I was able to set those emotions to the back-burner- even if only for now.
I filled my time waiting to board my flight, finalizing plans to meet with a few of the other early arrives from my tour group in London- since we had opted to arrive before the tour began to get more time in the UK, and to get to know each other a bit before the tour even started.
I also spent the time counting down the hours; because, my two hour travel from home to the airport, followed by four hours waiting for a seven hour flight, factoring in time change, I was about to have a twenty-nine hour day. At this point my only wish was to manage to fall asleep on the plane.
Let’s skip to the part where I didn’t manage to sleep on that flight AT ALL. I was too anxious and excited to get to where I was going after all the years I had been working towards this moment- my brain fucked me hard that day.
As I stepped off the plane at London Gatwick Airport I felt a surge of adrenaline that brought me from dead-walking zombie, to ready to take on the city. That same surge of adrenaline faded entirely by the time I made it to the hotel after a forty-minute trip to Russell Square, and the three star hotel Contiki hosted their London tour departures from. I was so happy to walk in to the lobby, thinking I would be unloading my extremely overpacked large suitcase.
It was at the front desk I was told I had to in fact leave the building and go around the corner to a staircase leading one level below the street, where the Contiki office was located.
Please don’t let there be fucking stairs. That’s all I remember zombie me thinking in that moment.
There were stairs.
There were many fucking stairs.
It was in this moment I had to make what I thought was a very adult decision at the time. Do I and my sore back carry this stupidly fucking heavy bag down these stairs?
I looked around and once again at the bottom of the stairs to make sure nobody was around_
Nah, I am not doing that.
I lightly kicked the suitcase down the fifteen iron steps, cringing at the amount of noise.
Not well thought out, not well thought out at all.
Still worth it.
I inspected my suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and was surprised to see it suffered not even more than a scratch. It was then that I looked up and saw the people inside the building looking at me as if I myself may have just fallen down the stairs.
Keep in mind that at this time I was now over thirty hours without sleep.
And so, after checking in, I found out I had to wait another three hours to actually get into my room. At first I decided to just sit there and wait; but, I was quickly starting to fall asleep. So, I left my bag in the check-in, and I ventured out into the heart of London, all on my own.
It is important to remember that in 2012 we didn’t have cell phone data the way we do now. During this trip my phone was only to be used for emergencies- roaming charges were a bitch, sis.
There I was, just a twink sized boy, wandering London with only one goal- to find my way to the Thames and follow it from there. I was shocked that I somehow managed to do that while only asking people the general direction I had to take any time I came to a spot where the street wound too much to be sure I had kept on track.
Some people tried to give me more detailed directions; but I knew I wouldn’t retain that shit at all. I’m more of a second star to the right and straight on till morning type.
I felt pure curiosity and jet lag as I slowly wandered my way toward the London Eye to meet with one of my tour mates- Parker- and her boyfriend (a boyfriend who wasn’t coming on tour with us). I had always dreamt of walking these famous streets lined with gorgeous and historically significant architecture.
I was amazed at how narrow the streets were, and could admit they were almost a bit too cramped with all the modern day traffic. I was overwhelmed in more than one way to say the least. No way to sleepwalk through this city. I also low-key felt like I was in a Harry Potter Movie.
Like, my fucking letter finally came and I am off to hex the patriarchy.
At the time, if you asked me which Hogwarts house I would be in, I would've said Gryffindor; but, if you asked me today, I would have a very different answer. Then again, now, I am far from that nineteen year old wandering London alone.
I would once again be lying if I said I didn’t almost get hit by a double decker the first time I crossed the street and forgot to look the opposite way of literally almost the entire rest of the world.
Almost died.
I was so happy when I finally made it to the Thames river so I could text my tour mate that I was within sight of the London Eye, where she was anxiously waiting for me in a line that was now very close to boarding the wheel.
I began to sprint, my smokers lungs protesting as I did so. I was going to be so pissed off if I didn’t make it there in time to board with them. When i got there the line was arranged in a way that I had to cut literally in front of everyone just to reach her.
Victory! We quickly greeted each other and hugged, just as our turn to board arrived.
I went to hand the ticket collector my print off, only to be told that the print off wasn’t the actual ticket, and that I would need to go in to the ticket office to pick it up. I looked back at the line for the ticket office, a line that was easily an hour wait. I was pouring sweat all over the place and had barely caught my breath from the marathon I had just finished. I was not going to fail. I had no choice but to beg to be let on even though I only had my proof of purchase.
Thank god that worked.
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After sleeping for fourteen hours I was ready to take on my fist full day in London. I would be meeting two other girls from the tour that were close friends traveling together for their high school graduation trip. One was local to the UK, but had been born in South Africa, and the other was her close childhood friend who still lived in Cape Town.
We didn’t know it yet; but, we were going to be amongst the five youngest people on the trip. For the sake of the story their names are Hermione and Lavender Not Brown.
We spent the day wandering around London, just taking in the sights at a leisurely pace. I was sporting a Levis denim jacket and matching pants- a jean tuxedo, if you will- and a pair of Birkenstocks because my feet were blistered AF from all the walking I had done the day before.
We were later joined by Parker and another new arrival from the tour that hailed all the way from Florida, named Umbridge. We spent the day visiting Buckingham Palace, St James Park, Big Ben, and Oxford Circus before we ventured to our hotel to meet up with the rest of the tour group, who had for the most part all arrived that day.
I was amazed at the amount of people I met in just one evening. People from the USA, Canada, Australia (SO MANY AUSTRALIANS), Brazil, Germany, New Zealand, Singapore, South Korea, Fiji, and South Africa. It was a true melting pot of the world, all within a fifty person tour group full of people looking to do relatively the same thing- soak up the history and culture of Europe, while chugging back as much beer or wine as possible. Let me tell you, we wasted no time. We were a drunk mess of a bunch by six that evening, and we didn’t stop until three in the morning.
To this day I remember that first night, and all the nights that followed, as a lesson that people are welcoming and open in general, and that strangers can become almost like family once you’ve spent weeks traveling together- living out of your backpacks and trying to find places where you could take a wee for free, preventing one of you from getting stabbed over gelato (the one of you being me), or almost breaking your tailbone while drunkenly frolicking around a three hundred year old chateau located on a vineyard in the heart of the Beaujolais region like Hermione did.
I also remember just how hungover and possibly, no definitely, still drunk most of us were the next morning as we boarded our bus to Dover, where we would hop on the ferry to France. I had a crash course in collective suffering on that fucking boat, let me tell you. Each and every one of us were doing all we could to avoid vomiting all over the place as the ferry swayed heavily on the extremely rough waters that day.
Walking to go and get food was like a fucked up game of zig zag and balance as you tried to work with the waves that were trying to knock your fucked up ass right on to the ground. The smiles and cheer from the last night had been replaced by groans and sore throats from both being too loud and also smoking too much at the hookah bar.
We were so happy to reach land that we all crashed into a deep sleep on the bus as we made our way from Calais to Paris. At one point the bus passed by Vimy Ridge, which our tour guide Sydney (from Australia) pointed out as Canadian territory. I sleepily glanced out the window, snapping a blurry photo of it as we passed by; before falling back to sleep.
My anxiety about traveling alone having been erased by the knowledge that I was going to leave this experience having seen more than most people my age, and having friends in more countries than most people ever have in their lifetime.
Most importantly, that once upon a time nervous kid had just proved to himself that he was capable of doing anything he set his mind to. I had faced a fear of going out into the world alone, far away from home.
I was so ready for what was coming during the next eighteen days.
Or, so I thought.
I also know you may be wondering why this part of the story is important. My answer for that is simple; all these little words may seem of little consequence; but, they tell the story of who I was, and, eventually, who I would become.
Together, they are all the experiences I have lived, and all the lessons I have learned.
My hope is that in sharing both the small, big, good, and bad moments, I can paint a realistic picture of my life for you.