The trip from Heahrow to Phil's place in Bounds Green was supposed to be a breeze. He's on the same line (Picadilly) that runs out of the airport. Granted, it's 30 odd stops, but no changing trains, figuring out what platform to be on, getting lost, hauling bags around. Just get on the train and wait it out. It was supposed to take about an hour. Did it happen like that? Of course not. It wouldn't fit in with the profile.

Before I boarded the train, I was met by a gang of Underground employees handing out pamphlets that described the construction going on today and what we had to get where we wanted to go. Several stations in the middle of the city were out of operation, so If you wanted to get anywhere on the Picadilly line past Acton Town (about 6 stops from Heathrow), you needed to take the train to Acton Town, get out of the Tube and take a bus from Acton Town to North Acton. From there, you'd head back underground for the Central line and then change to the Picadilly line at Holborn (magically pronounced "Hoeburn").

What should have taken about an hour lasted more than 3 as I dragged my sorry sleep deprived ass and three large pieces of luggage on a scenic tour of of the London transit system.

Who could have predicted that? I guess I should have.

When I was last in London in 1989, I was visiting my friend Jason who was doing a year abroad here. He gave me instructions how to get from Victoria Station to Tooting Bec, the shit hole suburb town where the university stuck him. Right before he hung up, he said wait, I better give you an alternate route in case there's a bomb threat. Back then it was the IRA trying to blow the stuffing out of English commuters). Sure enough, I get o the Tube and I can't board whatever train I'm supposed to take because someone's called in a bomb threat.