as luck would have it
“I don’t have it.”
“Have what?”
“I don’t have it. It’s not here.”
“Brooke, what don’t you have?”
(Long, eye locking pause between my mother and I)
“My passport.”
“You’re kidding?”
“It’s not here.”
“Did you look everywhere?”
“YES. It’s not here. You had it last. You said you put it back in my bag. You were making a copy of it and I asked you if you put it back in my bag, and you said, yes.”
“I asked you plainly before we left the house, ‘Brooke, do you have your passport?’ and you said, ‘Yes, Mom I have it.’”
“That’s because I assumed you had put it back in my bag like you said. I put all my trust in you; therefore, I trusted that you had put it back in my bag.”
“They’re not going to let you on the plane without your passport.”
“I realize that, thank you.”
“What are you going to do?” (What I do best…I head straight to the bathroom, and throw-up.)
Thirty minutes later…having missed the last flight to Chicago, we re-book for the next morning, flying to Washington, then to London. This was just the beginning, a preview for what was to come. If losing my passport, missing our scheduled flight, arriving a day late, and still having to pay for a room we did not occupy weren’t enough, there was still the rest of the week. After arriving in London at 6:30 am, we decided to take a cab to the hotel. We thought it would be easy and not too expensive, we were wrong. We got stuck in morning traffic and what should have taken twenty minutes, turned into forty-five, which lead to the fifty-two pound fare. While checking in, we were greeted by Julia, the incompetent twit who worked the front desk. Julia and her lack of people skills managed to screw up our reservation. Finally, after twenty minutes of dealing with Julia and her gracious hospitality we made it to our room…a single, 4 x4 box. It was supposed to be a double with robes, slippers, fresh fruit, and wireless connection, but no such luck. The room was beautiful and stylish, but not what we had requested. I love my aunt, but I needed my space and my own bed. So, I headed back downstairs to have a chit-chat with my new BFF Julia, and as expected, she was unable to do anything. Being the fool I am, I went ahead and asked about a room for Thursday night, and she informed me that they were completely booked, of course. Now, I know this is not true, for I spoke with Yahoo Travel and they assured me that the hotel had rooms available for Thursday night. By now it was 7:30 am, I was tired and could no longer deal with Julia and her snooty attitude…I needed caffeine. Thank God like U.S., London has a Starbucks on every corner. I order a Grande, non-fat Gingerbread latte, no whip and then I realized I had no money. Luckily, gift cards are accepted everywhere, even Europe . (Thank you, Katelyn, for the Starbucks gift card you gave me for my birthday, it saved my life.)
Other than ALL that, Monday went fairly smooth. We shopped around Piccadilly and then took a walk through Green Park . I ventured out alone that evening, browsing Regent Street, High Street, and Victoria looking for the theatre. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Tuesday, we over slept, managing to miss breakfast. Julia delighted in this. However, I found Harash, the manager, who made Julia reopen the restaurant and serve us whatever we wanted. This irritated Julia, making every bite that much more delicious. After breakfast I took my aunt to see Big Ben, the London Eye, House of Parliament, London Aquarium, and her first experience on the tube. My aunt is a germ-a-phobe; I honestly and amusingly thought she was going to have heart failure on the germ and disease infested tube. Later that night, we went to Victoria to see Wicked and the amazing, Idina Menzel…I almost peed my pants with anticipation. We arrived at the theatre an hour early to pick up our tickets and once inside, posted on every wall, in big bold letters, “TONIGHT’S PREFORMANCE, THE ROLE OF ELPHABA WILL BE PLAYED BY KERRI ELLIS.” What the hell, are you serious? I felt my heart fall to my feet, along with my smile. At this point I was beyond devastated and found it hard to breathe, I couldn’t think straight. I collected our tickets and proceeded inside the theatre. We located our seats, thirteen rows back, and dead center. I started eavesdropping in on conversations taking place around me and I was pleased to hear that I was not the only ticket holder upset that Idina would not be performing. I learned that the majority of the theatre was also there to see Idina, who had failed to show up, leaving so many of us furious. However, the difference between them and me; most of them lived in London , allowing another month of opportunities to see her, while I was leaving Friday, not to return anytime soon. I wasn’t going to get upset yet. No, I still had two more days in London , and that meant four more chances to catch Idina. I would simply purchase another ticket…problem solved. All was not lost, plus, who knew Kerri Ellis could sing? I didn’t. I didn’t even know who Kerri Ellis was, but the girl could sing.
Wednesday, I made my way to the theatre, where I learned that Idina would not be performing at the matinee or evening performance that day. Therefore, I purchased a full price ticket, for Thursday night. I thought that would give her plenty of time to recuperate and get her act together. My seat, though, I thought wasn’t possible, was even better than Tuesday; eleven rows back, dead center, again. It was a sign, I knew it. What are the chances of a seat like that being available the day before the show? My luck was changing, I felt it. We spent the rest of the day shopping on High Street, where I found a beautiful gray wool scarf and a pair of brown Italian leather boots found me. I don’t even remember the store, but they called out my name as we walked by, so I had to at least go in and try them on. They slid on like butter and fell perfectly below the knee. I was Cinderella and the boots, my glass slippers. The price was of no concern at this point, I had to have them. Wrap them up, I’ll take’em.
Thursday, I was feeling good. My new boots greeted me when I woke up, singing, “Good morning, Brooke.” And of course, I replied, “Good morning, Beautiful.” My aunt and I headed out for the day, but not before running into Harash in the lobby. He informed us that we indeed had a room for the night, though it would be one hundred and ninety-five pounds. I didn’t care, I had my boots, a room, and I was going to see Idina Menzel later that night, I was oozing luck from every pore. Later that evening, I headed out in search of a Starbucks and a book store. As fate would have it, I found both, right beside each other. It wasn’t just any book store either; it was Waterstones, a six story book store. Cue the angels and harps, I was in heaven. I made my way to the third floor, the biography and poetry floor, looking for Janet Street-Porter’s Fall Out, which I found, SIGNED. Could my day get any better? I glanced over to the man standing a few feet away, mainly because he smelled so good, like Old Spice. However, after looking, I realized he was in his late 50’s early 60’s…not my ideal type. Curious as to what book he was flipping through, I new it looked familiar, I read the title, “Straight Up and Dirty.” SHUT UP. I didn’t recognize it at first because the cover was different than the U.S. one, but sure enough it was. The nice smelling man chuckled, and I desperately longed to know what part he had just read. “It’s a great book.” I told him. He replied, “Oh, I bet it is.” I’m still curious whether he bought it or not. I made my purchase and my way back to the hotel. Angels actually sang while little birds helped me shower and dress. I slid on my boots and instantly, I felt sexy and amazing. After dinner at Bella’s I made my way to the theatre, strutting all the way there, I felt like I owned the city. Night had fallen once I arrived and a crowd had formed just outside. I opened the door, stepped inside and…SMACK, the same dreaded sign, “TONIGHT’S PREFORMANCE, THE ROLE OF ELPHABA WILL BE PLAYED BY KERRI ELLIS.” NO, not again! I was sick at this point, SICK! My last chance to see Idina was gone…GONE! I proceeded to the loo and puked. I somehow managed to compose myself until intermission. I decided: I’m not going to see Idina and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to make it through the second act listening to Helen Dillamore’s characters high pitched voice (I loved her, just not the voice). I had thirty pounds in my wallet…I needed a drink. I made my way to the bar and at four pounds fifty each, I threw back four Malibu Lemonade’s, bringing the fifth back to my seat with me. At final curtain I was depressed, tipsy, and had trouble buttoning my coat. I managed my way across the busy street to Victoria Station. I took one step towards the escalator and I heard, “West bound Piccadilly lines closed.” WHAT? Seriously, you have got to be kidding. My drunken mind immediately switched to panic mode: “What am I going to do? I can’t take a cab because I just spent all my money on booze. I can’t take the tube because it’s closed. I could walk but I’m in heels, I’m drunk, it’s dark, and it could take hours.” Apparently, my look of desperation caught the eye of the security guard,
“Miss, where are you headed?”
”Piccadilly.”
”My dear, you’re in luck. Piccadilly Circus is Eastbound, it’s still running.”
I almost jumped in his arms and kissed him. Instead I said, “Thank you, so much.” I walked around Piccadilly for an hour before heading to the hotel. It reminded me of NYC with all the lights and people. I felt at home. The second I walked in the room the phone rang, it was my mother calling to see how the show went…
“How was the show? Was she there?”
”I can’t talk about it right now. I’m too upset. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about it then.”
”Oh, Brooke, I’m sorry. I know how much you were looking forward to this.”
”Its ok, I’ll get over it. Happy Thanksgiving. Tell everyone I love them. Love you, good night.”
Thirty minutes before our flight, I popped two Dramamine and I slept the entire duration of our seven hour flight back home.
So, that was my trip. I did have fun, really. My aunt’s germ phobias and not being able to touch doors, or sit too close to strangers constantly made me laugh. My Italian boots, which make sweet sweet love to my feet, were reason enough for the trip. I’ll get over not seeing Idina. I’ll be in NY come June anyway. She’s always doing something, I’ll catch her then.
“Have what?”
“I don’t have it. It’s not here.”
“Brooke, what don’t you have?”
(Long, eye locking pause between my mother and I)
“My passport.”
“You’re kidding?”
“It’s not here.”
“Did you look everywhere?”
“YES. It’s not here. You had it last. You said you put it back in my bag. You were making a copy of it and I asked you if you put it back in my bag, and you said, yes.”
“I asked you plainly before we left the house, ‘Brooke, do you have your passport?’ and you said, ‘Yes, Mom I have it.’”
“That’s because I assumed you had put it back in my bag like you said. I put all my trust in you; therefore, I trusted that you had put it back in my bag.”
“They’re not going to let you on the plane without your passport.”
“I realize that, thank you.”
“What are you going to do?” (What I do best…I head straight to the bathroom, and throw-up.)
Thirty minutes later…having missed the last flight to Chicago, we re-book for the next morning, flying to Washington, then to London. This was just the beginning, a preview for what was to come. If losing my passport, missing our scheduled flight, arriving a day late, and still having to pay for a room we did not occupy weren’t enough, there was still the rest of the week. After arriving in London at 6:30 am, we decided to take a cab to the hotel. We thought it would be easy and not too expensive, we were wrong. We got stuck in morning traffic and what should have taken twenty minutes, turned into forty-five, which lead to the fifty-two pound fare. While checking in, we were greeted by Julia, the incompetent twit who worked the front desk. Julia and her lack of people skills managed to screw up our reservation. Finally, after twenty minutes of dealing with Julia and her gracious hospitality we made it to our room…a single, 4 x4 box. It was supposed to be a double with robes, slippers, fresh fruit, and wireless connection, but no such luck. The room was beautiful and stylish, but not what we had requested. I love my aunt, but I needed my space and my own bed. So, I headed back downstairs to have a chit-chat with my new BFF Julia, and as expected, she was unable to do anything. Being the fool I am, I went ahead and asked about a room for Thursday night, and she informed me that they were completely booked, of course. Now, I know this is not true, for I spoke with Yahoo Travel and they assured me that the hotel had rooms available for Thursday night. By now it was 7:30 am, I was tired and could no longer deal with Julia and her snooty attitude…I needed caffeine. Thank God like U.S., London has a Starbucks on every corner. I order a Grande, non-fat Gingerbread latte, no whip and then I realized I had no money. Luckily, gift cards are accepted everywhere, even Europe . (Thank you, Katelyn, for the Starbucks gift card you gave me for my birthday, it saved my life.)
Other than ALL that, Monday went fairly smooth. We shopped around Piccadilly and then took a walk through Green Park . I ventured out alone that evening, browsing Regent Street, High Street, and Victoria looking for the theatre. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Tuesday, we over slept, managing to miss breakfast. Julia delighted in this. However, I found Harash, the manager, who made Julia reopen the restaurant and serve us whatever we wanted. This irritated Julia, making every bite that much more delicious. After breakfast I took my aunt to see Big Ben, the London Eye, House of Parliament, London Aquarium, and her first experience on the tube. My aunt is a germ-a-phobe; I honestly and amusingly thought she was going to have heart failure on the germ and disease infested tube. Later that night, we went to Victoria to see Wicked and the amazing, Idina Menzel…I almost peed my pants with anticipation. We arrived at the theatre an hour early to pick up our tickets and once inside, posted on every wall, in big bold letters, “TONIGHT’S PREFORMANCE, THE ROLE OF ELPHABA WILL BE PLAYED BY KERRI ELLIS.” What the hell, are you serious? I felt my heart fall to my feet, along with my smile. At this point I was beyond devastated and found it hard to breathe, I couldn’t think straight. I collected our tickets and proceeded inside the theatre. We located our seats, thirteen rows back, and dead center. I started eavesdropping in on conversations taking place around me and I was pleased to hear that I was not the only ticket holder upset that Idina would not be performing. I learned that the majority of the theatre was also there to see Idina, who had failed to show up, leaving so many of us furious. However, the difference between them and me; most of them lived in London , allowing another month of opportunities to see her, while I was leaving Friday, not to return anytime soon. I wasn’t going to get upset yet. No, I still had two more days in London , and that meant four more chances to catch Idina. I would simply purchase another ticket…problem solved. All was not lost, plus, who knew Kerri Ellis could sing? I didn’t. I didn’t even know who Kerri Ellis was, but the girl could sing.
Wednesday, I made my way to the theatre, where I learned that Idina would not be performing at the matinee or evening performance that day. Therefore, I purchased a full price ticket, for Thursday night. I thought that would give her plenty of time to recuperate and get her act together. My seat, though, I thought wasn’t possible, was even better than Tuesday; eleven rows back, dead center, again. It was a sign, I knew it. What are the chances of a seat like that being available the day before the show? My luck was changing, I felt it. We spent the rest of the day shopping on High Street, where I found a beautiful gray wool scarf and a pair of brown Italian leather boots found me. I don’t even remember the store, but they called out my name as we walked by, so I had to at least go in and try them on. They slid on like butter and fell perfectly below the knee. I was Cinderella and the boots, my glass slippers. The price was of no concern at this point, I had to have them. Wrap them up, I’ll take’em.
Thursday, I was feeling good. My new boots greeted me when I woke up, singing, “Good morning, Brooke.” And of course, I replied, “Good morning, Beautiful.” My aunt and I headed out for the day, but not before running into Harash in the lobby. He informed us that we indeed had a room for the night, though it would be one hundred and ninety-five pounds. I didn’t care, I had my boots, a room, and I was going to see Idina Menzel later that night, I was oozing luck from every pore. Later that evening, I headed out in search of a Starbucks and a book store. As fate would have it, I found both, right beside each other. It wasn’t just any book store either; it was Waterstones, a six story book store. Cue the angels and harps, I was in heaven. I made my way to the third floor, the biography and poetry floor, looking for Janet Street-Porter’s Fall Out, which I found, SIGNED. Could my day get any better? I glanced over to the man standing a few feet away, mainly because he smelled so good, like Old Spice. However, after looking, I realized he was in his late 50’s early 60’s…not my ideal type. Curious as to what book he was flipping through, I new it looked familiar, I read the title, “Straight Up and Dirty.” SHUT UP. I didn’t recognize it at first because the cover was different than the U.S. one, but sure enough it was. The nice smelling man chuckled, and I desperately longed to know what part he had just read. “It’s a great book.” I told him. He replied, “Oh, I bet it is.” I’m still curious whether he bought it or not. I made my purchase and my way back to the hotel. Angels actually sang while little birds helped me shower and dress. I slid on my boots and instantly, I felt sexy and amazing. After dinner at Bella’s I made my way to the theatre, strutting all the way there, I felt like I owned the city. Night had fallen once I arrived and a crowd had formed just outside. I opened the door, stepped inside and…SMACK, the same dreaded sign, “TONIGHT’S PREFORMANCE, THE ROLE OF ELPHABA WILL BE PLAYED BY KERRI ELLIS.” NO, not again! I was sick at this point, SICK! My last chance to see Idina was gone…GONE! I proceeded to the loo and puked. I somehow managed to compose myself until intermission. I decided: I’m not going to see Idina and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to make it through the second act listening to Helen Dillamore’s characters high pitched voice (I loved her, just not the voice). I had thirty pounds in my wallet…I needed a drink. I made my way to the bar and at four pounds fifty each, I threw back four Malibu Lemonade’s, bringing the fifth back to my seat with me. At final curtain I was depressed, tipsy, and had trouble buttoning my coat. I managed my way across the busy street to Victoria Station. I took one step towards the escalator and I heard, “West bound Piccadilly lines closed.” WHAT? Seriously, you have got to be kidding. My drunken mind immediately switched to panic mode: “What am I going to do? I can’t take a cab because I just spent all my money on booze. I can’t take the tube because it’s closed. I could walk but I’m in heels, I’m drunk, it’s dark, and it could take hours.” Apparently, my look of desperation caught the eye of the security guard,
“Miss, where are you headed?”
”Piccadilly.”
”My dear, you’re in luck. Piccadilly Circus is Eastbound, it’s still running.”
I almost jumped in his arms and kissed him. Instead I said, “Thank you, so much.” I walked around Piccadilly for an hour before heading to the hotel. It reminded me of NYC with all the lights and people. I felt at home. The second I walked in the room the phone rang, it was my mother calling to see how the show went…
“How was the show? Was she there?”
”I can’t talk about it right now. I’m too upset. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about it then.”
”Oh, Brooke, I’m sorry. I know how much you were looking forward to this.”
”Its ok, I’ll get over it. Happy Thanksgiving. Tell everyone I love them. Love you, good night.”
Thirty minutes before our flight, I popped two Dramamine and I slept the entire duration of our seven hour flight back home.
So, that was my trip. I did have fun, really. My aunt’s germ phobias and not being able to touch doors, or sit too close to strangers constantly made me laugh. My Italian boots, which make sweet sweet love to my feet, were reason enough for the trip. I’ll get over not seeing Idina. I’ll be in NY come June anyway. She’s always doing something, I’ll catch her then.
