Allie Goes Global

Alright, here we are: my final full day in England. I was absolutely determined on this day to stick to my schedule and not miss out on anything. Between and advanced wrapping method and the discovery of ibuprofen gel, I was now able to walk with only a medium level of pain, so off I went to my first stop.

Most of the plan for the day revolved around the British Museum. Based upon all of the guides I read, I should have planned to spend a minimum of four hours here. I was in and out in an hour and a half. See, I have a problem, and that problem is that crowds make me nervous and edgy. I prebooked a ticket for 10am, which is when the museum opened, and good lord, the number of people who had also booked a 10am ticket was obscene.

I started where everyone else seemed to be going, in the Ancient Egypt exhibit, but I couldn’t get anywhere near anything. I couldn’t read any of the signs, couldn’t see any of the exhibits. I thought if I kind of queued up behind people, the British queue system would work in my favor and I would get there eventually, but no dice. This is apparently a situation in which queues don’t apply.

I then thought I had the genius idea to go as far into the museum as I could and work backward. I thought maybe everyone was in the front, so I could go around them. Also not the case. People were just everywhere. And look, I’m not complaining about people being at the museum. I was one of them. I’m part of “people.” I’m just saying, it wasn’t an enjoyable experience for me. I finally grabbed a coffee in one of the tea rooms and then left. I did manage to see a few cool things along the way.

This left rather a hole in my day. I was expecting to be at the museum until 2pm at the earliest. So, I decided to backtrack and go to something that I missed out on with one of my injury days. I hopped in a black cab and went off to Borough Market.

Now, someone with an ounce of sense might say something like, “Didn’t you just say you don’t like crowds? That they make you anxious and edgy? And now you’re going to Borough Market? At midday on a Saturday??” Yes, to all of those questions. Unfortunately the voice in my head doesn’t also have that ounce of sense.

I got to the market and waded into the scrum. There were a lot of police around, specifically watching a crowd outside of one particular pub. See, I haven’t mentioned this, but the entire time I was in England, there was an international rugby tournament going on. This day was, I believe, one of the final games. When I left the market, all of the police were gone, as was the crowd, but there was a substantial amount of broken glass all over the ground. I missed the excitement.

This crowd caused a particular issue for me, because it was packed in “nuts to butts,” as they say. Once I was in it, I went where the crowd went. Worth pointing out as well that I am five feet tall. I take up very little real estate in a crowd, and generally see nothing more than the shoulder blades of the person in front of me. So I can’t see, I can’t really control where I am going, and I can’t stop if I wanted to. It was honestly a little panic-inducing.

The crowd finally thinned and spat me out somewhere on the other side. I was specifically trying to find the food vendors, and I saw a sign that pointed toward them, so I hopped back into the crowd again, now aiming in that direction. I missed them again. At this point, I was now pretty close to where I started, so I just headed out. I figured that even if I did find the food vendors, the lines would be crazy long and I was pretty hungry. I found a pub nearby and had a nice pie, along with the obligatory cider.

I had tickets to a play in the West End at 4, so I figured I would get back on track for the day’s itinerary and head over to Covent Garden. I’m not sure why exactly I thought this would be a good idea. As far as I can tell, the main draws are shopping and eating. I’m not much of a shopper (and had already purchased way too many souvenirs) and I had already eaten. I was interested in what might be going on at the piazza, but being February, absolutely nothing was going on. I wandered around for a little while, did some good people watching, and enjoyed the nice ambience. That area is definitely pretty. I just didn’t plan appropriately for it.

Now onto the play. I specifically picked one that I didn’t know anything about, other than that it was a musical, and that it was short. I lined up outside the Vaudeville Theatre and was quickly seated for a performance of Six, about the wives of Henry VIII. Overall, I found it to be enjoyable. The music was good (though there’s not much of a story to link it all together), the staging is a lot of fun, and the performers were excellent. My only problem is that I was sitting next to a guy with very broad shoulders and he was kind of sitting on me. I’ve thrived in much worse conditions, so I pushed through. Six was perhaps not a musical I would return to, but it was worth seeing it the one time.

After this, I returned to my hotel for the final time and packed up all of my stuff. Because of the ongoing foot injury, I figured carrying my massive bag wasn’t a good idea, so I had ordered a cheap rolling suitcase off of Amazon and booked an airport transfer. I went to bed that night, content after a full day (finally) of seeing the sights.