It always amuses me how much everyone worries about my ability to get around when I travel. I think to myself, “I lived in ASIA for 12 YEARS!” but have stopped saying it outloud as it gets me nowhere. Aside from missing the train back by about 15 seconds and having to wait 20 minutes for the next one, I was able to board the train and figure out the process of getting back to King’s Cross without too much difficulty. The train had wifi so I dutifully checked facebook and all the other things that you do when you have access to wifi, until finally I read my book until the train landed. The trains were as nice, comfortable and clean as a KTX and made me wish that American commuter trains could evolved a little bit more. I miss the trains of Asia. Even Germany has a nicer train system than the US, which seems somehow unfair, really.
King’s Cross Station, viewed often from Harry Potter films, or James Bond films or other British films (do they make a movie in London where they DON’T shoot something at King’s Cross Station?) was large and very busy being the commuter hour. My phone, which was still connected to wifi, gave me a map for how to get back to my hotel. I had two options. I could walk, about two miles, or take a cab, about 8 pounds.
However, I had decided that as my time in London was limited, my options were also limited and I was going to walk to make the most of a nice evening and improve my chances of seeing the sites in London. I also figured at I could get dinner at some point, and wouldn’t mind the walk. I had even expressed as much to one of my co-workers before leaving who then demanded to see my shoes. I showed off my ever present combat boots and assured her that these Docs were made for walking and two miles was a short one in the span of life I had been wearing these shoes.
So, I kicked up my heals and began my journey which took me around and around and around King’s cross station three times because I couldn’t find the right exit to the street. It did not help that, at exactly this moment, my phone decided to kick up with one of its favorite tricks of completely and utterly failing, requiring me to reset it in order to get it to function. I hate the white phone, and my loathing has only increased over the last two years. However, it was my map and guide and I was sure that even with the phone wetting the bed constantly I would be able to walk from King’s Cross to St. Martin Lane.
As long as I could find the right exit street.