Vacation, all I ever wanted (pt. 2)

Okay so I'm finally getting off my ass and finishing my travel blogs.

So where did I leave off? The flight to London, yes. I love EasyJet, just let me say. I could do without all of the fucking orange, but overall it's a lovely experience. After a quick flight to London which I honestly don't remember at all, Matt and I landed in Stansted and made our way over to the Easy Bus kiosk-thinger. I pulled out our confirmation sheet to ask the woman where we were supposed to catch the bus, and she was just like, "next bus leaves at such and such a time." So I was like....okay. Fine. Matt and I got some breakfast at Costa and then went back to the kiosk. The time had changed on the board. So I was like, "does it just keep getting delayed? I was supposed to be on the 10:50 bus." And the woman goes, "whaaaaat? You had a reservation? Well the bus is gone. You had a seat reserved, you can't go on another bus." And I was like, "waaaaait a minute lady, I handed you my reservation and you didn't even look at it, you just told me the next but was leaving at 11:20." And I was pissed. So Matt tried to be diplomatic, and we went out to the coach station anyway and got a bus and it was fine. But man, what a dumb bitch.
Anyway, we got in contact with Matt Williams, our host, and took the tube from our drop-off at Baker Street out to Matt's lovely townhouse in Swiss Cottage. Almost immediately after meeting him and PJ, we went (in a car! Yayyy cars!) out to Hampstead Heath to take a cold, winter's walk in the park. And then we went to a friggin crepe stand, which was just so hilarious, but delicious of course. Matt and I took a nap while Matt took PJ to meet his grandparents. That evening Matt W. made us some pasta, which we ate with his fabulous brother Tom (who reminds me of someone but I can't figure out who), before we went on a big gay bar crawl in Soho. Me and like 6 gay guys, all in a day's work. After a few bars and a few skinny bitches (vodka and diet coke), we went to Heaven, a big fat club. We had some fun metal detecting and purse searching. Matt had to put his Tylenol PM (little blue pills with moons...ecstasy?) and sudafed in the "Drug Amnesty Box." Hardy har har. There was lots of techno at first, but luckily the club had a few levels and there was better music upstairs. We left around 2 am, sadly, because we had to do the fun night bus trek back home. So we sat on the top, in the front, like big fat Americans and had one of many linguistic discussions that characterize every trip to England. Yes, we speak the same language, but nottttt really. For instance, do you know what it means to "take the piss out" of someone? Ask me how!
So we went to bed around 4, and then Matt W. brought in the wake-up call at 8. We showered and jumped in the car for a fun times road trip to the Isle of Wight. M Dub (as he will be referred to from now on) has a friend from high school whose family just moved there, and Matt has a friend from Oxford, so we went to visit our respective friends. Two hours in the car and a ferry ride later, Aisha picked us up at the port and drove us to her house. We set our stuff down and then went for a giant ride around the whole island while Aisha tried to find some place that I still can't identify. We went out to the beach though and saw some intense cliffs and lots of cows that apparently fling themselves into the sea from time to time. After all this running around Matt and I just wanted to veg, so we went back to casa Aisha and had a classic English snack -- fried eggs and cheesy toast. They have no right to call Americans fat asses -- all they eat is fried, buttery, sausagey crap. Anyway, we then ate about a pound of left over Christmas chocolate and walked Shrek 3, which was surprisingly a lot better than I would have guessed. And that night we did some face masks and watched The Notebook. It made me miss Chelsea. Luckily Matt is in a mushy relationship right now so he appreciated it.
That night we slept until about noon which was fan-bloody-tastic as it had been way too long since that had happened. Aisha drove us back to the port and we met up with M Dub and PJ to drive back to London town. That night was New Year's so we split up throughout the house to get ready. I was straightening my hair when Joe showed up so he sat and told me about the 4 hour train ride from Edinburgh while I burned myself repeatedly. Let me tell you about Joe. He's awesome. The end. Just keep in mind that he is brilliant. In the English sense, probably the American one too. Anyway, we did a little internet research for some events that Tom had suggested. M Dub and PJ finagled their way in to a party at Westminster Abbey (M Dub knows the daughter of the dean and so it was like her house party) so we were left to our own devices. The parties were either booked up or chavvy (this is English slang that means something close to white trash, but clearly not the American version of it. I imagine kids with those fucked up mullet-hawks and indecipherable accents. The term "chav" was invoked quite often by these posh prep-school types I was hanging out with). Anyway, we decided to wing it. First we went to Miriam's apartment (READ: DORM ROOM) in King's Cross, where we'd be spending the next two nights. If I had only known what was in store, I would've never left that lovely bed in M Dub's lovely house. Anyway, we then met up with Hannah and Jimmy at Leicester Square (but not before stopping to get some alcohol) and ended up eating a huge dinner at this great Indian restaurant. Hannah is a big foodie so she order these giant tasting menus and we all shared. And she picked the wine. And there were crackers! Not food, not white people. They are basically big party poppers with toys inside. Matt got a lock that he is keeping on his belt (for chastity?). I got a green measuring tape. Haha. Anyway, we ate and I had perhaps a little too much wine because I spent half the night telling Joe how much Americans suck. Whoooops.
Afterwards we made our best efforts to get to Parliament Square as it was dangerously close to midnight. Well, we didn't make it there. We stood on a median on some big street while all of humanity walked by. We counted down, we saw the glow of fireworks in the clouds. And we drank. I don't even know when I got so drunk but suddenly it was like BOOM. So Miriam and I fiercely defended Matt and Joe's right to grope and play tonsil hockey in public, i.e. every chav who walked by and made comments got an ear full of our "FUCK YOU!!!!!"s. One guy stole Joe's almost empty bottle of JD right out his hand. And one guy tried to steal Jimmy's hat. It was warfare. But it was awesome. At one point a group of Hari Krishnas marched by, so we joined them and chanted for about half a block before returning to our spot. We didn't really "do" anything but somehow it was one of the best New Year's I'll probably ever have. After the mayhem died down, we found a good bar to spend the rest of the night in. I was already pretty hammered, but Joe can't help buying drinks for people apparently. So two vodka-cranberries later I was about to pummel this guy and girl who were making faces and snickering at Joe and Matt. There are such haters in the world, man. I don't quite recall the trek home, but I know the tube was open and free all night. We got to Miriam's and I remember attempting to sleep on her bookshelf. But then I settled for the floor under three coats. It is a good thing I was so drunk because I didn't realize how uncomfortable I was.
Soooo the next morning we woke up whenever, showered, and tried to find some breakfast. Joe insisted that we have a proper English breakfast. We found a couple places where they serve just that, but both were totally full. And anyway, do you have any idea what an English breakfast is? Cheese on toast, fries, baked beans, bacon, sausage, fried eggs, half a tomato (why?). The second restaurant we found had a board with pictures of all of their meals. I don't know if looking at something has ever made me so nauseated. Anyway, after walking for blocks and blocks and finding nothing but Subway, McDonald's and Starbucks open (thanks America!), we settled on Starbucks. A muffin and a coffee later and I was feeling much better. Afterward we went back to Miriam's for some naps, and thankfully I got to borrow a sleeping bag for the floor. That evening we got up, straightened ourselves out, and headed back to Chez M Dub for a New Year's kick-back (it's been a long time since I used that term). Anyway, we drank some mulled wine, ate some mince pies, the usual. Fun fact: mince meant -- not meat. Spicy, chopped up fruit paste. It's worth a try but I wouldn't eat it every day. We made it a pretty early night, but for me it sucked some major ass because this time I was on the floor, scarf under my head, two coats covering me, and 100% sober. Needless to say, I did not sleep real fabulously and I was thrilled when everyone woke up so we could get the hell out of there. That morning we did have a real English breakfast (for 2 quid!), albeit a mini-version because, well, we're not eating world champions.
We left that day around 2:30 to catch the Stansted Express to the airport. And here's where my troubles began. Matt and I got to King's Cross tube and he realized he had forgotten his passport at Miriam's. No big. So while he went back, I bought my tube ticket. I dug around in my purse a bit before realizing I had a 5 pound note I had taken out and put in my pocket before we left, so I wouldn't have to get out my wallet. So I bought my ticket and waited for Matt. For whatever reason I looked through my purse for my wallet, and oh shit -- it was gone. I called Matt and told him it must be at Miriam's and to go look for it. Apparently it wasn't there. So somewhere between Miriam's and the tube ticket machine, my wallet disappeared. Whether I dropped it, someone pick-pocketed it...I don't know. As far as I know, it was in my purse under a book and a scarf, but apparently not. I freaked out a little on the phone and attracted a bit of attention to myself, so a tube agent guy chatted with me for a while. He offered to get my a ticket to Heathrow (except I wasn't going to Heathrow and I already had my tube ticket) and then wrote his phone number on my hand so I could call when him when I "found the wallet in my luggage." I'm glad he was so sure, cuz I was just as sure that it wasn't in there. Then he asked me if I studied psychology because I was so calm. No use crying over spilled milk. All I had in there was a student ID, credit cards, and cash. Biggest deal was that I really like that little wallet. But we had a flight to make, so I brushed it off and waited for Matt to get back.
We got to the Stansted Express, and lovely, it wasn't running. So we took some random trains with a bazillion other people and finally got there. Checked in, on time, no big deal. Then came the security. Hannah's bag beaped, so did mine. So I stood there while the woman took everything out and looked at it. She found my pepper spray. Whoops. Although I don't think that's what set off the machine, or it would have done the same thing in Amsterdam. Whatever, I said, take it away. But no. She holds it up and goes, "I'm really sorry, but this is illegal in the UK. It's considered a firearm." So naturally, I did what anyone would do -- I put my head down on the table and tooooootally lost my shit. Then she was bitchy and told me to pull it together so the cops could talk to me. I'm sorry, lady, my wallet was just stolen and now I'm going to miss my flight. And not just me, but the two friends I have with me right now. Anyway, I took a deep breath and went over to the little police stand thinger. They took my info, no problem. Then they were like, we need to interview you. What?! Fiiiiine. So I went in the little room with the two very nice and goofy policemen and they wrote down my answers to questions like "what is this? why do you have it? do you know that it's illegal?" Blah blah blah. Then a mugshot, a DNA swab, and some fingerprinting later (typing this right now makes me nauseous), I was done. Hannah had waited for me outside while she texted Matt to find out about our flight (which was delayed half an hour, GLORY HALLELUJAH), so we ran to the gate and boarding was just starting. I collapsed on the ground.

So suck on that until I have the strength to write about Barcelona.