Apparently word got out that JenM, my superbad best friend, was moving to England so everyone decided that it must be the place to be...and all of them decided to arrive on the morning of August 16th. After a very smooth transfer from Albany to Detroit we arrived at Gatwick
just in time to participate in a back up at immigration the likes of which has not been seen in the twenty odd years, according to an employee who was trying to keep the queue orderly. The situation was complicated by the fact that the Non-EU line was so far down the hall then doubled back on itself, effectively blocking the entrance for UK and EU citizens. Those trying to get through had to traverse the two layers, both of which were filled with cranky foreigners convinced that all these people were trying to cut infront of them, no matter how many people passed. In situations like this there is only one hope-- that those around you are at friendly, and if not friendly at least quiet. We were not that lucky. In front of us was a woman who was definitely going to miss her connecting flight to Scotland... and was not going to let any of us forget it. Listening to the girl behind us attempting to impress a couple of guys with her many wordly experiences and somewhat misinformed trivia was not all that much better.
Two and a half hours later, passports stamped, we collected our luggage and made for the trains. Having all of Jen's worldly possessions with us this was not as easy as it sounds. The recruiting agency had sent her an exact itinerary of which trains to take, including one tube transfer... at a station with no lift... Three heavy rolling bags+one duffle+a fiddle+two day bags+four flights of stairs= torture. Hungry, tired, and dirty we rolled into Felixstowe
mid-afternoon, found a cab to the B&B.