Babies, Trains, and Cabbies

Got onto the plane without a problem, wandering to my seat and readjusting the contents of my carry on a few thousand times. I snuggled into my window seat and noticed that my seat mates hadn't shown yet. I was so excited to sprawl out, hoping that no one would occupy the other two seats beside me, giving me free range of bathroom access. Unfortunately, they showed last minute. I sat cuddled next to a three year old and her mother. The baby's feet were in my lap most of the time, with the exception of the wee hours of the morning, when her head finally collapsed, exhausted against my shoulder.

I got off the plane, collected my luggage and proceeded to the trains. After confirming 20 times with the lady at the counter that I had to take the train on platform four, it turns out it was the wrong train. I found out after an hour of steady riding. I had to hop on 6 separate trains to get home...with 75 pounds of luggage.

Lastly I arrived at the charming Clapham Junction. I went to the cab park and asked the taxi man (who I will now refer to as the heartless, hateful, devil man) if he knew how to get me to Sam's house. His response: "we will find it together." I should have been tipped off by the snake tattoo on his forearm, beady eyes, and the fact that he made me wait for him to finish his cigarette before loading my bags. I disappointed myself really, normally I am much more judgemental than that. Anyway, he drove me around the block several times then pulled over to check a map. When I enquired if he was going to keep the meter running, the heartless, hateful, devil man started yelling "not made of money are you princess? Can't wait for me to look something up, well I am afraid I can't help you." He got out of the cab, threw my 75 pounds of luggage into the street and pulled away. Devestation.

I had to navigate my way back to the taxi park, and start again. If you thought, hey maybe it would be easy to roll a suitcase along a cobblestone street, you are wrong. Also thank god heartless, hateful, devil man didn't ask me to pay after he threw his little baby fit, because he had run the meter up to almost £10. I paid the new cab driver only £4...he knew where he was going.

Lessons learned: babies make comfy but noisy seat partners, train ticket sales ladies are cunning tricksters, and never get in a cab with a man who says "we'll be able to find the street together."
All around, succesful fail at my first solo travel experience. This trip is shaping up to being an entire box-set of episodes, rather than just a season of Seinfeld.