Hey Drama Goblins,
I recently went down to every-other-week with my therapist. I still need guidance and support - and life can change on a dime - but I’m not having as many, “I really need to talk to Dr. Plaid about this” kinds of things happening.
Or maybe they are, and I’m just handling them better?
Either way, I’ll take it.
I’ll also take your questions! With thanks to all who voted, the new feature of It’s Kind of a Long Story… is an AMA! Scroll down to the end and you’ll find a link to an anonymous Google Form where you can ask me anything about what I write (or anything else!)
I’m so glad you’re here,
Lara
Rule Brittania!
Short Story
In the tradition of the “one crazy night” movie, Max and I had a wild 17-hour layover in London. It was magic.
Long Story
“Uh oh, what did I do?”
That’s what I thought to myself as soon as I hit the final button to buy the plane tickets for Max and me to visit friends in Berlin.
I don’t know why it didn’t hit me while I was doing it, but I had scheduled us to have a 17-hour layover in London. Sounds great, right? But the layover was from 8:00 pm to 1:00 pm the next day.
What was I going to do?
I had the very bad idea to rent a car and drive around all night sightseeing.
My mom said, “You are not putting my grandson in a car in another country where they drive on the other side of the road and drive all night. I’ll get you a hotel at the airport.”
I really didn’t want to spend the night at some dumb airport hotel when my kid could be seeing Big Ben.
So, I did what I do and put it out on Facebook:
“Does anyone have any good ideas for how I can spend 17 hours in London? I’ve booked a doozy of a layover.”
Say what you want about Facebook, but it has been a net positive in my life. I’ve met and maintained close friendships, deepened relationships, and gotten and given a lot of very good advice and support.
Some of my favorite memories - the tour of the Mad Men set, my vacation in San Miguel de Allende, and a whirlwind trip to New York - would not have happened without it.
And it didn’t fail me this time! My friend Linda, who I go back to junior high with, chimed in:
“We’ll be living in London then, but on vacation in Ireland. You can stay at our place!”
Whut? This is perfect!
Linda’s husband was on a one-year work assignment, and she wasn’t working while they were there, so lucky us, she channeled all of her top-notch admin skills into planning our less-than-a-day stay.
Following her very detailed directions, after we got through customs, and exchanged whatever Euro we had for Pounds, we made our way to the train to get from the airport to her neighborhood of Little Venice.
It just happened to be the 15th anniversary of The Heathrow Express and to celebrate, they were making a scale replica of a train car in cake.
That was just one of the oddities we saw at the airport. There was also a guy standing there with a falcon on his arm. Brits are so kooky!
We made it to Linda’s lovely townhouse and the keys were just where the instructions said they’d be. The locks opened easily, but as we stepped inside and I went to close the door, the deadbolt would not go back in!
I jiggled and tried the key again, but it would not budge! Linda and her family were in Ireland for the week, I couldn’t just leave the door open until they got back.
I thought I was doing a good job of demonstrating grace under pressure, of playing what the Starr Family called Adventure Rules: You Roll with It.
But, however it was I was actually behaving prompted Maxo to say,
“Momza, why don’t you sit down and let me try?”
He got some olive oil and a knife and did his best, but it wasn’t budgin’
I reluctantly called Linda on her vacation. Maybe there was a trick to it? Miss Efficient said, “I’ll just call a locksmith.” Of course. Can Linda please run my whole life?
While we waited for the locksmith, we read the lovely note Linda left with the towels and snacks and took our stuff into the rooms where we were staying. In the primary bedroom, we found the hats she had worn to fancy horse races and took some goofy photos.
The locksmith finally arrived and said it was a bad key. We were lucky we got into the house at all! He totally dismantled the deadbolt, and told us to just use the other lock. We thanked him and said we were going to go out and see the town, and he advised us that the tube only runs until midnight. Who knew?
Luckily there was a night bus stop right on the corner. The sign that said the route stopped in Picadilly. So I knew as long as I could get us there, we’d be fine.
After all of that drama, we didn’t set out to sightsee until 11:30 pm. The tube was packed, and as we stood there holding onto the overhead handles, I said to Max,
“It’s the middle of the night. We’re in a foreign country. We have around $13 in cash. Is this how a responsible mother behaves?”
We got off at the Parliament station and walked toward Big Ben. We’d been standing there for just a minute or two when it chimed midnight and then suddenly went dark.
It was magic.
Max, already a budding anglophile at 13, asked if he could see the Thames. I yelled, “Yes! It’s right over there!”
I felt like the Mom of the Year! I was so thrilled to make this crazy experience happen for him.
He asked if we could take a black cab, and I joked, “We can take one however far our pounds will go!”
We hailed a cab and asked him to take us to Picadilly. I knew I could get home from there.
While we were driving, we told the cabbie the story of our night. The lock! The hats!
He laughed and said he was going to drop us off at Buckingham Palace, “You have to see it, and it’s perfectly safe.”
When we got out of the cab, we saw a bunch of TV production trucks blocking the street. Then, when we got to the Pall Mall - the tree-lined half-mile approach to the palace - we saw that it was filled bumper-to-bumper with parked cars! And trucks! And motorcycles! And tractors! And buses! Even an ice cream truck!
What was going on?
One of the workers loading a car onto a trailer told us they had been filming an episode of Top Gear that day.
Remember when I said my Maxo was a budding Anglophile? Top Gear was one of his favorite shows. It had been on the air in the UK for many years and was all about cars. My favorite feature was Stars in Reasonably Priced Cars, with celebrities from Helen Mirren to Jeff Goldblum doing a lap and trying to outdo each other’s time on the leaderboard.
I could not believe we had stumbled onto the set of one of his favorite shows!
We poked around and posed with the cars.
They even let us sit in a race car! It was amazing. It felt like I was wearing it.
It was just me, Max, and the crew until we were joined by Patrick, a tipsy lawyer on his way home from the pubs. He and Max palled around the Pall Mall and practically skipped from car to car they were so excited.
As we were chatting, we discovered he was good friends with the manager of a restaurant right around the corner from my office. The world is so small.
When we got to the end of the Mall and were in front of the Palace, Patrick pointed to three small windows near the top that were lit up and said, “That’s the Queen’s drinking room! She’s up there having a Dubonnet and gin!”
We traded email addresses and he promised to send the photos of us he had taken and he went on his way.
We somehow got ourselves to Picadilly, and by then we were peckish. There wasn’t much open at that hour (it had to be at least 2:00 am) and we only had a few pounds. All we could find and afford was Chips-in-a-Pita. Yep, pita bread filled with french fries. It was certainly… filling.
We used our transfers to get on the night bus and make our way back to Linda’s townhouse, equal parts exhausted and exhilarated.
I woke up to an email from our tipsy pal Patrick with the pictures he had taken of us as promised. When I got home I went to the restaurant near my office where his friend worked for lunch and told her about our crazy night. She laughed and said, “That sounds like Patrick.”
He and I stayed in touch through the magic of social media. Since then he’s gotten married, had a son, changed careers from law to education, and is now sober.
As Max and I made our way through the airport for the final flight home, we noticed that not only had they made progress on the cake, but there was another guy with another bird on his arm! This time, an owl.
It turns out they hired handlers to stand by with birds of prey to keep pigeons away from the cake. Brits are so kooky!
One of the reasons I wanted to take Max on this trip was not only to expand his horizons, make memories, and have fun, but also to teach him that there’s always a Plan B. Stuff happens. Annoying stuff. Funny stuff. Frustrating stuff. Tragic stuff.
Our best-laid plans are subject to the whims of the universe, and there’s always a way to pivot.
In just a couple of years, he would have to make the biggest pivot of his life. I like to think that this trip, and all of the other ways we modeled how to roll with it, helped give him the strength and resources he used to navigate his father’s death with the strength, maturity and grace that he did.
A few months after we got back, Patrick let us know the episode of Top Gear would be airing. It turns out that it was a special episode for the Queen’s Jubilee, and that all of the vehicles had been manufactured in Britain.
Watching it, if you’ll forgive the pun, was very moving. Sweeping music played as the cars, trucks, motorcycles, and more made their way from their factories to the capitol.
The three hosts arrived at the Mall in Jaguars with Union Jacks streaming behind them. They were gobsmacked by what they saw when they got there.
I’m so grateful we got to be a part of it. If I hadn’t bought the plane tickets with the long layover. If I didn’t have a big, wide community on Facebook. If Linda hadn’t had a place for us to stay. If the deadbolt had worked. Or if we had gotten into a different cab, it might not have.
Lara sez…
Listen!
80s Deep Cut of the Week! This song was running through my head the whole time we were on our adventure. Squeeze is my all-time favorite band, and I listened to this song over and over again as a teen to memorize the lyrics.
Do!
I don’t know how people live their lives without Calendly. It’s a nifty (and free for the 30-minute version) app that integrates with your calendar so folks can set up meetings with you - phone or video. It saves so much time!
Listen!
I’ve been loving the I’ve Had It podcast. Two BFFs bitchin’ about the state of the world from the perspective of middle-aged, middle-class, blonde, cis-het, athiest, liberal feminist southerners.
Eat!
I just scored an air fryer from Buy Nothing, and the first thing I made in it was corn ribs! I had them a restaurant a couple of years ago and was thrilled to be able to make them at home quickly, easily (and deliciously!)
Cut the corn lengthwise into four “ribs,” toss or spray with oil, season with salt, pepper, garlic, or whatever. Air fry at 400 for 10 minutes.
Follow!
Roe v. Bros posts brief man-on-the-street interviews in which the men are asked questions about women’s sexual and reproductive health. It’s all done in fun, but these guys are having sex with women. And voting. And what they don’t know is scary.
Before I let you go…
The poll has spoken! Y’all wanted an opportunity to AMA and here it is!
This Google Form is anonymous. I’ll be answering the questions in upcoming Substacks.
What an adventure! Thanks for sharing that story...it is a great reminder of how beautiful life can be when you "go with the flow." 😊
I LOVE serendipity!