I was thinking about going to Paris for the weekend. I've never been to Paris. How fantastically awesome would it be to just hop a flight and do that, and how totally rad would it be to just throw away to all my friends across the ocean that I just 'went to Paris for the weekend.'
But Paris, as cheap as the flight was, is expensive to stay in. And I can't be quite that reckless.
(do you feel the story coming on?)
At about 4 o'clock on Friday afternoon, I decided I'd go to London for the weekend. I have two cousins down there that I might be able to catch up with, and a friend or two as well. I'd take a sleeper train, to save a night in accommodation. I'd see "Inherit the Wind," currently running at the Old Vic Theatre, starring Kevin Spacey, Oscar winning actor and possible guest master class teacher for my upcoming program. And, with the sleeper train leaving at, like, 23:30 or 23:40 or something, I could go out and have a couple beers with a pal.
(please read carefully and follow some of the details... )
Train ticket booked, emails/facebook msgs/texts sent, small bag packed. Look at me go, off to London for the weekend. I am so cool.
So I get my first taste of Glasgow City Centre on a Friday night, at what must have been the busiest pub anywhere, as you could barely move enough to get the glass to your mouth. Followed up with a "I'm sure I've got time for one more" at a pub with a far more reasonable number of people in it. A look of the cell phone - wait - mobile tells me it's about 23:20. So off we go to the train station for the beginning of my weekend of awesome. I run in, looking for the ticket print out thingy, only to discover that it is, in fact, 23:45... my train left at 23:40. On the dot. Because they do that here. (fantastically and I SUPER appreciate it, as long as it doesn't work against me)
Next train leaves at 4:24. AM. That's early.
Impossible to get to from the boonies where I've been staying, I couch crash for the three hours or so I have until the next train. Brushing off the "I already paid 50GBP for a ticket" and focussing on the "I'm going to London for the weekend and that's awesome!"
*note - Glasgow Central Station opens at 4am. Something to be aware of if you are now paranoid about missing a second train to London. Showing up forty minutes early will only leave you waiting in the street with people who are at the pukey/drunky/throwing-up-y stage of the night.
I get the train, a couple of hours of broken sleep over the 4 and a half hour journey, and reach London, already bustling at 9 am on a Saturday morning. I find the hostel I booked and am informed that there is no way I can get in, as check in is not till 2:30, and I'm given a look of suspicion at the fact that I don't have any luggage, just my shoulder bag. (another point of pride - I can pack light). OBVIOUSLY my only option is to head to Camden market and purchase some necessary and essential items for my months ahead.
Check in is not so much of a breeze, but I appreciate that I get a double room to myself as opposed to the dorm room I thought I was getting. All for the same price. Change into my new clothes and I'm on my way.
At this point I must say that one cousin has bailed as he was partying until 8am, and is planning on doing the same tonight, and my good friend from L.A. (aka the 'Bridge) is in orientations all day. This leaves one friend and one cousin MIA or TBA or basically out there someplace with a message from me they haven't checked yet.
I get to the Old Vic Theatre in lovely sunshine and let my theatre geek go to town. (the building is pretty cool, and I find the stage door. ) The MIA cousin calls, we set up to meet after the show that couldn't be more than a couple hours.
I got to watch almost 3 hours of Kevin Spacey being a great actor, over 40 actors on stage (which is such a rarity), see an well directed production from Trevor Nunn, and do it all from the (dis)comfort of a 10GP seat. Last ticket in the house. Then I waited in a circus throng of people to meet the Kev-Spa. Giggly girls, older women, one almost fanatic looking guy who was clutching program, ticket, poster from tonight as well as a couple of blown up headshots... weird. And everyone of the other 40 actors got to walk through this throng, knowing full well it wasn't for them. Kev Kev was the last out, and only came to this kind of window shutter, from which he could sign autographs and have pictures taken without getting mobbed (...by creepy fanatics holding pictures of him...). He was really quite polite and patient, and I waited till the crowd dispersed to walk up and say "I have nothing for you to sign and I don't need a picture, I just want to thank you for your performance tonight. I'm here from Canada, about to start at the RSAMD and am hoping I might meet you again in a class this year...?"
"Ya, I dunno, I might be making movies."
Fair enough, Mr. Spacey. Fair enough.
I hop on a tube to meet my cousin, along the same line I'm staying on which is awfully convenient.
(note for those keeping track: it's about 22:50 pm when I do this)
Hang out, have a catch up, some laughs, discover that they make ice cubes over here by pouring water into these plastic, self sealing bag things, (as opposed to ice trays that suddenly sound incredibly sensible) and that blush wine is incredibly popular here, even with incredibly hetero men, as red makes you sleepy and that just wouldn't do when you live in a country that parties until 8am ... the rest of the gang is off to see a DJ, but I play responsible and get dropped off at a tube station along the way.
Time now: 00:37
Last tube departed: 00:22
The cab ride cost almost 50GBP.
I knew that the train heading back to Glasgow in the morning came at 9 something. Like 9:15 or something like that. There was one at 8 something, 9 something, 10 something, but I wanted that 9 something in order to meet Heather when she got back from her Ireland adventure. I run into the train station at 8:41. A train leaves at 8:45 which makes me ecstatic except that I'm not sure where the gate is and as I go to look I read the bulletin under the time clock saying "doors close two minutes before departure" by which time the train is no longer listed on the board.
The 9 something was 9:45.
I'm gonna have to get a bit more precise with those details.
In the end, I made it into Glasgow in time to hop onto a train in the seat right next to Heather and share the briefings of our past week with the whole of the car (we did not use appropriate inside volume).
I spent almost 120GBP more than I should have, had I just got the timing right.
Maybe next time I should just go to Paris.
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