Training Day!

There wasn't any way in the world I was sleeping that night so I passed the time watching the news.

In the morning, the sun came up and the pudgy guy across the way was enjoying a cigarette on his balcony and wearing an orange vest. It could have been his flat or part of the hotel or anything really, but I wasn't that interested. Yes, okay, I was being voyeuristic, but too bad! I was bitchy and tired and had to wait till after 5 to get back to Gatwick to catch a train.

Okay, I admit it, I was being nosey.

I caught the first train out. It was a nice ride for the most part. All filled up, but a nice quiet ride.

I got to the exit and I was trapped. The doggone turnstile wouldn't let me out. WTF????
I was then accosted by a turnstile nazi - because there is such a thing. Turns out I took the wrong train. Of course I did because I didn't have the info of the right train due to all of my crap being stolen. Fine, whatever. I had to cough up an extra 12 pound before I was released. Whatever, it's just money, right?

I hopped the Piccadilly line and made my way to my next port of call, The Penn Club.

I'd heard really good things about this place and it was recommended by the Pastor of my now defunct church. (In all honesty, I've closed down 2 churches - DON'T JUDGE ME!)

I arrived at 8:30 knowing full well it was way too early to check in. I figured they would have some type of baggage hold so it should be fine.

I wheeled my case up to the door and tried to open it. I had to ring the bell. Okay, they're security conscious. No problem. I wheeled inside. 

There was an attractive woman at the desk. I smiled as I approached.

"Hi. I know it's early, but I have a reservation..."

"You can't check in now. Go away and come back after 3:00. If you come back after 8:30 pm, you can't check in." This was spat at me with an Eastern European accent.

"Um... okay. Can I leave my bag?"

"In the common room. Just put it there." At which point she walked away. Not the best of first impressions, let me tell you.

Pretty close, actually.

With a little bit of trial and error, I found the common room. I took out all valuables, (not that I was worried since it was a Quaker place - or had any valuables for that matter.) and left my bag in the corner. Okee doke... now what?

I was to have a meeting at 10:00, but I still had to replace the stuff I needed for my class the next day. I set out for Waterstone's.

I knew it was around there somewhere and without too much of a hassle, I found it. 

Three items and fifty pound later, I left the establishment to go to my meeting.

I sat and waited for the guy who never showed up. Reception kept calling his office, but he never answered. I didn't really have that much of a pressing time matter, so I waited around a while. Oh well, not meant to be. The world won't end. 

*It turns out that we were both there, but for some reason the wires were crossed. Too bad.

I had some travelling to do, so I took the tube to King's Cross station to hop the train to Hertfordshire.

The confirmation code was one that I had to re-print in Cannes. I dug it out of my new zipper portfolio - the one I just purchased - and typed it into the machine. The machine spit out a ticket. 

I'm not an idiot, I swear, but I had no idea at all what this ticket said.

I made the mistake of asking an attendant. He told me that my ticket may be incorrect and to go to the Customer Service and check.

I DID NOT SEE THIS!!!!!!  DAMN!

I stood in line at the Customer Service desk for a little bit. The guy finally told me to go to Platform 5. So, I go to platform 5.

I get onboard, and the train takes off. Exciting!

One or two stops later, the dude comes around checking the tickets. He gets to me, looks at the ticket, looks at me, looks at the ticket and informs me: I'M ON THE WRONG TRAIN!

What to do?  Get off at the next stop and get the next train back to the station. Fine.

I get off the train at the station and of course, can't get through the turnstile to find out where to go. A nice lady attendant opened the thing for me. I found out that I needed to be on Platform 9. Now the original guy may have said Platform 9, but maybe I didn't hear him right or his accent messed me up. It happens. Whatever the case, I get to Platform 9, ask about 7 other people if I was in the right place, was assured 7 other times that I was in the right place and got on the doggone train.

Off the train goes!  I don't know how long of a ride it was, but finally I got to Hertfordshire Station. A really cute, tiny little place. I get off the train and go in search of a taxi. There was construction going on everywhere. I mean everywhere. It seemed like a big money injection was shot into the town and they were doing their best to use it. Good for them! I took a taxi to the back exit of  University of Hertfordshire.

I won't bore you with the details, but here are two pics.

Now of course by this time it was mid afternoon and instead of heating up like it does at home, the temperature decided to drop. A lot. I mean it must have dropped about 10 degrees in 10 minutes. I asked a guy (who gave the impression of being a Big Man On Campus- pompus ass that he was) where I could buy a sweatshirt and he directed me to the Student Forum. I go in, find a nice soft sweatshirt and a Chicken and Mushroom Ice (because it sounded gross) with a diet coke and tried to pay.

DENIED! Yes, once again my credit card was denied. This time it was because it wasn't a chip and pin variety, and just a stupid card. Crap. I had to go around the corner to the cash machine and pull out cash. Again, only money, right?

So I did that. Paid for my purchases, donned the sweatshirt and found a place to sit and enjoy my fat filled, over processed and really, really not good for you lunch. Notice I took no pics of the nutrition information on the back.

The thing was just a pasty and not too disgusting at all. Why it was called an 'ice', I still don't know.

Throughout this whole day I had been trying to get in touch with Heather and Thomas, the most perfect couple in the world. The plan was that I was to go up and see them. 

This sounds perfectly reasonable, doesn't it? Of course I kept trying to email them and let them know of my progress- be that as it may. Why wasn't my phone emailing? I don't know. Did I have a number for them? Of course I did, but it was STOLEN! So, no, not at this moment in. I continued to try to contact them via email to no success. My plan was to get to their train station and try to find a phone book. As if anyone knows what those are anymore.

I found the right bus to the train station after asking several people on the campus - none who's first language was English, not that it matters - and shivered waiting for the bus.

I got to the station without incident. I bought a cocoa since it was freezing and I had a 20 minute wait. Eventually it came, so I got on the train.

Of course I didn't know what station to de-train, because that was in my portfolio too. So what do I do? Ask of course.

"Hurry, go across there and catch that train." Was the answer so  I did that.  There was a cute sign in the train.

So now what? You guessed it, I was on the wrong train! Again! I don't know if the guy didn't understand me or if he was just having fun screwing with a tourist, but either way, I ended up at a station with what looked like a Gaelic name I couldn't pronounce. CRAP!

I sent one more frantic email explaining to H and T the situation and begging forgiveness. I was freezing, had no idea what time it was and I was lost. I got off that train, crossed over to the platform with trains going the other way and found one that said 'Kings Cross'. Ah. I'm familiar with that. I waited for the train.

Turns out there was a soccer/football game/concert/something in the city that night so the station was filled with drunken revelers. I usually don't mind this, but I was cold and upset so I went to hide in a corner by an old lady and wait.

About two hours later I arrive and King's Cross. I decided I better get back to The Penn Club and check in.  I go into the tube station and tap my card at the thingy. I make a tube station change and get off at Russell square and tap the thingy again.

I walk back to the Penn and check in. THANK GOD there was a cute little guy behind the desk this time and not The Harpie. I get my key, retrieve my bag and huff it up the 65, yes 65 stairs up to my room. I'm not out of shape. I'm really not, but this had me winded.

The room was small but clean and it had it's own heater. I couldn't complain. There was a common bathroom on the floor, but it was only a few feet away. 

SBG invited me to join her for dinner. After the day I had, I was thankful. She gave me directions to the place and I followed them to the T.

I found it. The dinner was delicious! Ahhh, blessed lean protein. Blessed vegetables. So happy to see these old friends. I was beginning to think I would never see a 'clean' meal again. Thank you SBG!

After dinner, SBG sent me off with specific instructions including:

"Get off at Victoria. Walk directly across the way. Directly. Do not talk to anyone, do not ask questions. Get right on the Piccadilly line."  I did just that lo and behold I made it back in once piece. 

I tapped my Oyster card on the thingy and out I came. Walked to the Penn, up the 65 stairs, a quick shower and into bed.  I used the code that I got at check in to go online. No dice. It told me the code was already used and pretty much to go F myself.

I had every intention of studying, I really did. What I did was set every alarm and timer on all of my devices and quickly fell asleep.

Thank God that day was over!