Jason: dawn arrives early in Cambridge, Massachusetts. My wonderful Aunt Cynthia, who let us spend the night in her house, is also nice enough to wake up and drive us to the airport. Check-in is uneventful, and we're on the plane for a timely departure.
The flight is mostly uneventful, with Jason furiously reading the London guidebook, Amy napping, and Carolyn giggling about the aforementioned napping. At long last, the flight arrives in Heathrow airport.
Despite Heathrow being in London, the international terminal is actually located in Greenland. We continually climb ramps, escalators, and follow walkways until we get to ... more walkways. This process continues, and we begin leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to make sure we don't end up going in circles. After finally getting to (and clearing) customs, we burst into the cool evening air to find out that a taxi will cost us £50 ($100 US). We hastily retreat to the airport and search for the Underground (Tube) station.
Despite helpful signs promising a Tube station, we find only walkways. Walkways that lead to ramps, ramps that lead to corridors, and corridors that lead to broken conveyor systems. At long last we actually get to the station. We wait in line while a slavic-speaking group argues for a refund at the ticket window; the man continues to protest his fare while the woman stands around in the shortest shorts any of us have ever seen (we didn't have our camera out yet, but trust us that they were a feat of modern engineering). At long last, however, we get our tickets and ride into London. After a lugging our bags up several flights of stairs, we emerge from the Underground and proceed to haul our luggage through the quaint streets of Westminster in search of our hotel.
Our hotel is a converted dorm from King's College (they let rooms during the summer when school isn't in session). Not big on wall furnishings, but there are beds, and right now that's what interests us most. Amy and Carolyn locate Indian food at a nearby restaurant, though they aren't really "in" to Indian food, and end up ordering a bread-like substance with a side of salad.
Meanwhile, I silently mutter curses at the 11-year-old Romanian children that are hogging the hotel's only internet-attached computer. We're pretty sure we're the oldest people in the hotel by at least 15 years.
However, we're here, we're safe, and with the exception of TSA going through our luggage and losing a small item, everything seems well in London. Off to get a good night's sleep before our first day in the city!