Two broads abroad: Letchworth goes to London

Happily anticipating my and Syd's school trip to Europe for the past few months, I got a case of frigid feet in the days leading up to our departure. "I'm going to cause an international incident," I cried to Brad who, by the way, didn't lend much in the way of reassurance. "You'll be fine," he said, shoving me out the door before directing all his attention on distracting our dachshund's devotion from me to himself.

On car trips, the Mosiman's have a long-established rule of not snacking until we at least cross the Wyoming County line. For plane trips, we staunchly refuse to eat in the home-town airport. This was particularly difficult when surrounded by high schoolers snarfing down Subway and spooning up parfaits but Syd and I held firm, refusing to treat ourselves until Philadelphia. Little did I know that Syd would use that 45 minute plane ride to drench herself from head to toe in the "fancy" drink that she had to order from the drink cart. With two hours before our connecting flight to Heathrow, our group was given the go-ahead to wander but "not leave Terminal A." Syd and I were off, on a mad hunt for airport pants. We searched all over A to no avail and then snuck over to Terminal B like criminals. Airport pants purchased, we trekked the miles and miles back to our sanctioned area where I immediately confessed and then ordered an inedible panini.

We boarded to London on a sparely-populated plane so Syd and I shifted seats so we could be together, scoring a front row area so we could stretch out our legs. We procured 50-some pillows from neighboring seats along with their accompanying see-thru blankets and settled down, Syd thrilled with the enormous selection of movie and television programming. We happily ate our gourmet pasta meal ("Isn't this just macaroni and cheese," Syd asked, gleefully spearing a spiral macaroni.), humming the Indiana Jones theme song as we watched our animated plane slowly span the map between Philly and London on the big screen at the front of the aircraft. Sleep was elusive but we cat-napped, getting up to stretch every few hours. Dawn greeted us with toasty hot lemon muffin tops straight out of a Seinfeld episode. "These are the best muffins I've ever had in my whole life," I mumbled through my mouthful. "Thanks," the stewardess replied skeptically, as she continued to pass out the pre-packaged snacks.

Security and customs posed little problem. I buzzed through security with a pre-screening pass, skipping the tedious "take off your shoes and let a complete stranger see you naked" process used for the common folk. "Did I win the lottery," I asked as I was ushered through security like a red carpet movie star, watching Sydney remove her belt, watch and sneakers to stuff them all in a small plastic tote, barely leaving room for her dignity as I was treated like an airport heiress. Customs got a little tricky when one curious official got a little to close to the herd in order to determine the type of migratory species currently corralled in front of him. Looking at me, he remarked, "Well, I know you're NOT a college group," before leaping back to safety as only the restraining mouse maze ropes stood between him and a raging, jet-lagged female.

There was a slight ker-fluffle at the airport when another tour group tried (unsuccessfully) to hijack our wheels. Then our adorable British guide, Annie, enriched our vocabulary as she explained how to adjust the air at our seats by "twiddling" the dial so we happily "twiddled" away. Our incredible bus-orientation tour of London was an eye-opener for approximately the first ten minutes before Syd and I succumbed to sleep. We awoke to find ourselves at the Tower of London. The brutal reality of a pay potty came as a shock to many but we quickly rallied as we prepared for a guided trip of the Tower. Our boisterous guide was fantastic and not at all shy about poking fun of his American audience, wondering what an American history teacher talks about after the first hour is up. We viewed some of the royal jewels, saw the moat, observed the place for private executions and concluded in the chapel where some 1500 bodies were later exhumed, years following their horrific punishments.

We finally arrived at our charming hotel, my group eagerly leading the charge. No elevator? No problem! One flight, Two flights. Three flights. Four. Top it off with a narrow winding staircase with steps that refused to accommodate my size ten monster feet.  My roomies and I abandoned one piece of cumbersome luggage and jointly hauled up two bags, at the end, one laborious step at a time. By the time we reached the top of Rapunzel's tower, we were exhausted but then immediately rewarded when a turn of the key revealed THREE beds! Yay!

After a brief rest, we walked to dinner. Syd and I ate at Gourmet Burger. We ordered skinny fries which was like eating hot, crisp potato sticks. Delightful. Then, many in our group continued on to King's Cross to re-enact Harry Potter's arrival to Platform 9 3/4. Donning a House scarf and Harry Potter glasses, you were given a wand, gripped the cart and were transported directly into the movie! Aside from losing my senses and abandoning my camera at King's Cross, resulting in a mad dash back through the train station, we had a magical time.