Little did the three friends know that a simple trip from
the airport to their hotel would turn into an adventure of epic proportion.
It all started when the lone female and wisest of the three
said, "Let's just take a cab to the hotel."
"But it's 45 minutes away," exclaimed her male
counterparts. "It'll take forever, let's just take the underground."
"But we have no idea what we're doing," said the
female. "And we have all this luggage. Wouldn't it be better to just take
a cab now?"
The men shrugged the wise woman off and headed toward the
Underground ticket counter, where the three friends listened intently to the
attendant trying to explain the way the Underground works through a thick
British accent.
After 20 minutes of looking at the Underground map and never
hearing the words "Heathrow Express" used once, they embarked on
their journey on the tubes. The blonde male, Casey of the 'Ville, spoke with
confidence as he described the easy route they would take to their houses of
rest.
Jen of the 'Ville had a feeling in her gut it was going to
take longer than a cab, but followed along, her burden not a ring, but a
suitcase the weight of an elephant.
As the three entered the first train, their excitement
spilled over into giggles; the adventure had begun. Two stops later, they
realized they had begun their adventure in the wrong direction and switched
trains. Finally, on the right path, there was one more switch that needed to be
done.
As the adventurers crossed from the Piccadilly Line to the
District Line they were met with the worst of foes... British Fraternity Boys
drinking Fosters. The three entered the train, trying to keep to themselves,
but it was of no use. The British Fraternity Boys could smell the their
inexperience and approached.
"Would you like to go on walk-a-bout?" one of the
boys asked.
Immediately, Mike of the 'Ville and Casey of the 'Ville
stood to block Jen of the 'Ville from the vile mouth breathing of the drunken
beasts.
"Walk-a-bout?" asked Casey of the 'Ville.
Jen of the 'Ville, having seen Crocodile Dundee answered for
the group. "No, we do not want to go on walk-a-bout, but thanks for your
generous offer."
"It's not literal, love," said the British
Fraternity Boy. "It's a pub."
We all relaxed, the British Fraternity Boys were not out to
steal our coins, but our wits with spirits and beers. Alas, though the British
Fraternity Boys meant no harm, we missed our stop. At that point, the British
Fraternity Boys tried to right their folly. Each pointing to a different route,
trying their best to get us to our destination. That's when the drunkest of the
British Fraternity Boys stood and pointed to the most direct route on the map.
As we got off the train, we said good-bye to our new friends
and wished them luck on their "walk-a-bout".
Climbing the stairs the fresh air blew our sweated brows
clean and we knew the adventure was coming to an end. Finding our houses of
rest, we met in the pub to celebrate with spirits and 11 pound ($17) ham and
cheese sandwiches.