October 26th dawned a crisp, beautiful, and bright fall morning (but, unfortunately, quite cloudy around the mountains so I didn't see them on my way to Calgs). I played my very last round of suitcase Tetris, taking things out and trying to get my small-human-sized suitcase under 32kg, (It was 28, for the record; win!) The trip to the airport was uneventful, as were the wait to board and the flight.
Fun facts about the airports/flight: 1- There were a few restless babies in the boarding area (so I was nervous about having to listen to screaming babies for 8 hours), but with the exception of one doing the I-don't-wanna-sleep-you-can't-make-me squawk for like 3 minutes, they were all 90% silent. 2- I was nervous about having to sit in a middle seat between two strangers, unmoving, for 8 hours; I got three seats to myself. 3- I was nervous about going through customs on the other side (because, really, they could reject me up until that point, then I'd have been faced with the trip back to Canada/what to do next); dude at the counter was super nice and let me through after asking me a few easy-peasy questions. 3- I was a little nervous about navigating Gatwick solo, but there were signs everywhere.
Funnily enough, the only part of the trip I wasn't nervous about was the trip from Gatwick to Edinburgh, and boy howdy did everything go wrong then!
After breezing through customs and baggage claim, I found my way to a ticket agent to purchase my way to Kings Cross (as I'd done my research prior to leaving Canada, I knew the route from Gatwick to Edinbugh well), where I think the lady stopped listening to me between "London," and "Kings Cross," because I found out the hard way that I had a ticket to the least fun place in London whilst toting almost 100lb of luggage: the Underground. I also asked which platform I needed, to which she replied "that one," making a broad, sweeping gesture at ALL OF THEM. So I found it myself. Whatevs.
Scene: I'm standing at the platform, staring up at the screen that shows which train is approaching. It's the correct one. People here aren't curteous like in Canada and I'm thusly left standing on the platform, having been too polite to shove through a crowd of likely weary travellers (what I later learned was my first mistake). Another train pulls up right away, and I think to myself "I'm not letting that happen again," and I barge my way through the crowd, securing enough space for both me and my luggage (my second mistake).
About 3 minutes into the ride, a dude comes by asking for our tickets. I give him mine and he tells me I've taken the slow train instead of the express. No problem, I think to myself, more time to enjoy the scenery. ('Nother mistake.) As the train fills more and more with each passing station, I figure out that not only am I on the slow train, but that I am on my way to the very worst place to be with super heavy luggage: the London Underground connection station. When the train gets to London Victoria station an hour later, I quickly find my way to the express back to Gatwick, and, because no one had taken my ticket on the last train, I used the same ticket (it stated "for use in any direction between Gatwick and London Victoria"). I only felt a little bit guilty about it.
So now, I'm back to square one. I'm only 2 hours behind schedule, but I told M&R that I'd arrive "some time in the afternoon." I can still make it, I think to myself, it's still only 9am.
Back at Gatwick, I find a different ticket window than my last one, and secure a ticket to, and I quote, "KINGS CROSS STATION." (I swear everyone in line heard me, but I wasn't taking any chances this time.) Before leaving the window, I read the ticket and it says St Pancras Station, so I ask the really nice lady why she's in on the conspiracy to keep me lost on London's trains with heavy/awkward luggage forever (but not really). Turns out I get off the train at St Pancras then transfer to Kings Cross on foot. Easy peasy, I thought.
I found my platform quite easily, and patiently waited for what happened to be my next mistake. I got on the train without looking at the signs on the physical train; I trusted the sign on the platform to be right. Guess what? It wasn't. Halfway to the first stop, I realize my misstep, silently curse myself, get off the train, and transfer to one going back to bloody Gatwick yet again, while still holding the same ticket (small win!). By this point, I'm starting to not like Gatwick's platforms anymore.
By the time I end up on the correct platform and have barged onto on the correct train (finally!!), it's almost 11am. Now remember, I got out of baggage claim at 7.30am. I spent almost 5 hours on the wrong trains just trying to escape the airport!
Side note: I had been trying to connect to wifi with my phone since landing to update my people, but nothing had connected as of yet. No biggie, R said there would be wifi on the train to Edinburgh. I'll contact them then. This was, in fact, a big biggie. In hindsight, I should have borrowed/stolen someone's phone to text/call them. I learned my lesson.
After the most uncomfortable train ride in the history of trains rides (for most of the trip, 6-8 people were simultaneously touching me), a quick jaunt across the street, and an unbelievably expensive ticket to Edinburgh later, I thought all was well. Haha, NOPE. While waiting for my train's platform to be announced, I realized I was quite hungry. Not wanting to leave my difficult-to-acquire seat, I decided to wait until the platform was announced, quickly grab something to eat on the train, then board. (Mistake.) turns out, they announce the platform when boarding starts. Lesson = learned.
When they announce my platform/call for boarding at 12.45pm, I almost run to my train. By this point, I'm asking every staff member I pass to point me in the right direction. Apparently one of them was on drugs, but I got off that train and on to the correct one without much fuss. Yay me.
A million hours after landing, I'm finally on my way to Edinburgh. Also, the wifi on the train didn't actually work, and the nice old man who had been sitting beside me got off the train before I could ask to borrow his phone. Thankfully, R had also told me that there was a Starbucks in Waverly station with free wifi, so I knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel (literally though, because Waverly's underground). If even that didn't work, I still had everyone's best friend from before cell phones: the pay phone.
When Starbucks' wifi finally connected, I did an internal happy dance, and contacted M&R. Thankfully, M had picked up a shift at work (and also works within a block of Waverly) and it finished about an hour after I got to Edinburgh, so I was able to sit and enjoy my chai while not running around hauling everything I own.
Finally, what felt like 16 days after waking up in Canada (but was actually like 34-ish hours), and unfortunately right in the middle of the kids' bed time (sorry M&R!), I made it to their place, my sense of humour and sanity both miraculously still in one piece.
...And now you know the rest of the story.
