I didn’t fully appreciate the fact I was in London until the afternoon of the second day. We arrived Saturday noon, sleep-deprived and a little bewildered at the large, empty airport, and walked through the motions of customs, shuttle and rental car purchase. London traffic is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I held my breath and contemplated my death as Dad tried to drive from the passenger seat in New York-style traffic. After running over the third curb, I tried to look anywhere but the road. Beside me, Josie, my sister, slept away.

We arrived at the apartment complex located in Battersea after a harrowing hour. The apartments looked like a typical newly constructed London building: modern with an artistic touch. The concierge greeted us and provided a key to our miniscule apartment… our miniscule trashed apartment. The owner finally set us up with a different apartment in the same building after trying to give us an occupied room. By then, I was about through with London.

Sunday dawned six hours early. With a little sleep and a warm porridge breakfast, London wasn’t so bad. The day went mostly according to plan. At 2:30 p.m., my family sped through the crowded streets in our Vauxhall car. Looking back, several variables were against us. Dad’s phone had about 10 percent battery, we had just missed the designated turn, traffic was terrible, and because it is London, driving is plain wonky. Dad glanced at the rear view mirror, watching the turn disappearing behind us, and stated, “I’m going to make a U-turn.” He made a U-turn all right. Straight into the curb. Instantly, the whole car shifted. The tire on Mom’s side (passenger left) now sported a large hole. Subdued, we parked in the entrance of a cemetery for an hour until Roadside Assistance brought us a new tire.

The nearest tube station to the British Museum deposited us in a random neighborhood Tuesday. My family exchanged confused glances before Dad sighed and pulled out his phone for directions. We finally arrived at the British Museum, stone columns with golden people greeting us. The size of the museum barely dispersed the thousands of tourists. My family actually stumbled upon the Rosetta Stone first off but were deterred by the multitude of people gathered around it. We wandering around the Egyptian section, filled with hundreds of relics, instead. After one wing, I was museumed out and hungry. Luckily, someone pulled a fire alarm, effectively evacuating everyone in the building… right on time for lunch.

One of the most iconic things to do in London is viewing the changing of the guards. I would not recommend taking the time to watch some fancily dressed men with bear hats march to music. We opted out of waking up early, fighting for a prime spot and then waiting for several hours for the thirty-minute spectacle. Instead, we went on a free tour and arrived a few minutes beforehand. The tour guide maneuvered the thirty or so tourists through the crowd for a decent view. We watched the fresh set of guards march into the Buckingham Palace courtyard before walking away from the captivated thousand or so people to a smaller scale of the exact same process with about twenty spectators. During the official reading off of the rules, a tourist tried to get a closer look. He crossed the imaginary line, stepping on the grass and too close to the protected area. The rule-reader turned to the tourist and screamed, “GET OFF THE GRASS!” The second guard pivoted, stomped his foot, and screamed as well. The third concluded the process: “GET OFF THE GRASS!” Thoroughly scolded, the man stepped away, and the surrounding spectators edged away from the grass as well.

Of course, on the trip of a lifetime, we lost the camera. Luckily, Dad downloaded most of the pictures halfway through the trip, and we forgot to bring the camera the other half of the time. We did remember to bring the device on the day we returned the rental car. We just forgot to take it out. Oh well… the camera barely functioned anyway.

By the next Monday, I was ready to see the glass walkways and blue skies of the Amarillo airport. We had spent seven days in London, eight away from home. My family arrived at the airport ready to go home. Unfortunately, “home” had to wait. Long story short: We missed the connecting flight in Houston and stayed overnight at a provided hotel. The next morning, we flew home in a tiny airplane. I climbed out of the plane, pondering the trip. London, England was lovely, thoroughly enjoyable and the most interesting vacation I have ever experienced.