I know the picture is blurry but my wonderful wonderful cousin who met me at the airport introduced me to train travel and I was trying to keep up and take a picture going down stairs at the same time.
That was the roof structure over the train station which was a very short walk from the airport. Trains were coming and going to so many different places in an amazing and orderly fashion.
We had a short wait and I used the time so constructively, to almost lose my phone, 3 minutes before our train was to arrive. (In my defense I was very tired.)
An older man found it turned it in and my cousin was able to think and act quickly enough to retrieve it in the nick of time. People on the platform, random strangers waiting for trains, were so kind in helping us. There really are some nice people here. The very best of which is my cousin.
I’ve come to the conclusion that the word, Heathrow, should strike fear into the heart of any traveler.
When they told it me it was one of the biggest airports in the world, I thought sure, but how bad could it be? Well. . .
Aside from the sheer size, the amount of people in lines or cues, as they call them, was staggering. I found out after walking from one end of the airport to the other and being in three seperate lines with about 300 people each (all of them the wrong ones) that a thousand passengers wasn’t even a big deal for them (though it was for me).
And the 3 hour wait for a connecting flight that I thought I had (cut down by the 45 minutes late the plane arrived from Canada, due to weather they said) was barely enough time for one country bumpkin to figure it all out. But I survived Heathrow.
Hard to believe. A prairie girl on massive plane flying over a whole ocean. As Crystal (bless her heart) drove me to the airport I was wondering “what in the world was I thinking?” But . . .
I guess I was thinking “life”.