Well… I made it. No hiccups, lost bags, passports or minds. No matter who you are, traveling can be challenging but I guess our attitude makes all the difference. As an overloaded traveler, I am finding myself in the face of obstacles that I normally can avoid. I must find courage to face my fears.

I headed to the airport on Wednesday as I normally would. Being midweek, traffic at Seatac was light and we were able to make excellent time, keeping stress to a minimum. As many of you know, just getting to the airport can be very stressful. I have been determined to make this trip all about taking it easy, not making a plan, and allowing myself to drop fears so as to not be tied to a schedule that may keep me confined to the comfort of  the norm.

I failed my first challenge.  My norm is to overpack, taking ever possible outfit or accessory I thought I might need.  I worked very hard to keep all of my stuff to a minimum on this trip so as to have only one bag that would qualify as a carry-on. Perhaps that is why this first challenge made me so mad. I took great offense when the British Airways ticket guy tried to question the size of my backpack.

I only went up to the ticketing counter to ask if trekking poles were okay to bring on the plane. They didn’t even know what trekking poles were. The first person asked someone who looked like a manager. This person says that if they are strapped to the outside…I interrupted and told him they are in my backpack. He gives me a look and then looks at my backpack and asks me if that is my carry-on and then makes me put it in the carry-on box thingy. I have carried many bags on planes much thicker than this pack and see people take bigger packs before, so, considering I did not ask if my bag could be carried on the plane, I could have bypassed this damn process altogether.

So, he says if I won’t test it they would be happy to check it for me. I immediately get agitated. I put my pack in and it fits in with ease standing on end and he says if I can’t lay it on its side, then I have to check it. I tell him that my shoes are strapped on top, and that may impede the fit but without them it should be fine. He proceeds to tell me he can check the bag. Arg! You fucker! So I, in a huff remove my shoes from the top, throw them on the ground,  And the bag slips very easily into the space. All I can do is turn around, look at him with a smirk and a mental middle finger pointing is way. He says, ” I guess it fits”. I just walk away. He still never answered my initial question. What I found most agrivating was that my moms roll aboard was wider than mine, yet they did not make her try it. Carry-on discrimination?

Getting on board is where I feel the most fear. I am painfully aware that over the past year I have put on weight, I am more aware when I go to take my seat. Is the seatbelt going to fit? It didn’t. Fear set in. Now I was going to have to ask for an extension. Not only was I squeezed so tightly into my seat that my mom and I could not lower the center arm rest I was going to have to admit defeat and ask for the extension, bringing attention to the fact I was not able to fit the standard belt. Why this brought me so much fear, I did not know, but it was the first time this happened. I failed. Since my mom was on the aisle it was easier for her to get up. She asked for it. I dodged the bullet and this was one of the reasons I should not have brought her with me. The challenge of asking for help is one I need to conquer. Next flight. I put on the extension, flew 9 hours across the Atlantic, made it to London and the world did not end. It may have been uncomfortable but it was temporary.

We found our way to the hostel in Southwark. Nice place, hip and happening with a chill out space and bar as well as an included breakfast. We got here early enough that I was able to take a nap, relax and unwind before going to dinner and a Shakespeare play at The Globe. Next challenge, dinner.

We walked to the theater, as it was close and training for the walk is in full effect. We figured we could locate a place to eat on the way. The one place whose name seemed synonymous with American food was a place called Porky’s bbq. I would have gone in there but I think the ambiance was a bit muddled by the 5 tables of beer pong in the corner, not my scene. We were running out of time so we went into the next restaurant that we saw, here is the challenge, it was Anatolian Turkish food. This was seriously foreign territory, but if going with the flow was my attitude of this trip… I went with it and it was a very positive experience. The tables were short and the chairs were shorter. You were not sitting on the floor but it reminded me of being in a first grade parent-teacher conference. If you have been there, you know what I mean.

The menu was Turkish with English descriptions and it was kind of a chance to just say, I’ll try that, and then hope for the best  I got lucky. It was tasty, inexpensive and a unique experience. This stepping out of my comfort zone is proving to be a positive experience.

Next challenge is tickets in the standing room only spot of The Globe for  2 hours of Shakespeare by candlelight. I left at intermission. There is only so much discomfort I will allow myself to endure.

Back to the hostel and the final challenge of the evening. I took my shower, got ready for bed and the task at hand. As an overloaded woman sleeping on the top bunk was…a challenge. I have not slept on a top bunk in a long time. As I climbed up the ladder, I remembered how it was difficult even when I was younger  I had myself organized so I would not have to climb down again. I wore my flip flops and up I went up. Mission accomplished and it was not as hard as I thought it was going to be. In went the ear plugs and I fell asleep hard and had the best nights sleep I have in awhile.