The tube train screeched to a halt.
“Now approaching Kings Cross station”, the automated voice said, “Please mind the gap”.
“This is our stop”, my mom said, addressing my brother and I.
I stood up, the effects of jet lag heavy. I followed my mom to the sliding doors of the train, my brother behind me. I trained my eyes on my mom’s striped, knit hat, trying not getting lost in the zombie-like crowd of people shuffling towards the door. I finally reached the edge of the platform, right outside of the train. Checking my brother was behind me, I adjusted the straps of my backpack. I looked around at the congestion of people coming out of the train, they were all, and by all I mean everyone was Timberland boots, wool jackets, a scarf. I really felt like an outsider, I mean, I was wearing a hoodie and a Yankee hat; how American.
The King’s Cross Tube station was overflowing with a stream of people headed to the turn-stiles. Following the multiple signs and arrows, my brother, mom and I eventually reached the booth where you buy Oyster Cards (UK Metrocard).
As we approached the front of the line, the teller smiled at us.
“American?” she asked.
“We come from Virginia”, my mom replied.
I guess the teller could tell we were foreigners because of our aura of cluelessness. We were like a diamond in the rough, except in a bad way. My mom then deposited some money onto our Oyster Card, enough for us to get around London primarily by Tube.
Once again we started following the arrows to the turn -stiles. As I walked, I looked along the curved ceramic tiled walls. Posted on the walls were advertisements and flyers for plays and theatrical performances. I grinned, in the Metro Stations in the U.S. all you saw were advertisements for electronics and cars. After surveying the walls for long, the girl from Les Miserables was permanently seared into my brain. I really hoped that we wouldn’t get lost.
I looked away and found my mom staring at a map of the layout of Tube, by the expression on her face; I could tell that we were lost. I felt helpless, there were arrows hanging from the ceiling to direct people to the exit, how could we get lost? After observing the map a little bit longer, I could tell that we had been looking at the wrong signs.
Once we followed the correct signs we finally stumbled upon the Tube station exit. My mom had the Oyster card in hand, and I looked at the turn-stiles. There was a sensor where the card was supposed to be placed. There was one problem, between the three of us; there was only one Oyster Card. This meant that once one person had opened the turn-stiles, the other two of us had two quickly go through the stiles before they closed.
After the first attempt at this ( which was an absolute fail, my backpack had got in the stiles while they were closing), an exasperated police officer, with her checkered uniform and neon yellow safety vest approached us and offered us help. In turns out that the handicap gate could be used for families. Using that made life a million times easier. This little mishap screamed out to everybody in the tube that we were tourists, hopefully that wouldn’t happen again.
We exited the Tube Station, as I clambered up the stairs; my face was greeted with a blast of cold air. The cold numbed my nose, and pinched my ears. I reached the top of the stairs, and the sound of cars rushing by filled my ears. I looked around, and I was immediately reminded of how different things were. The taxis were solid black, with ads posted on the doors. They looked exactly like the ones in the movies. Instead of the Toyotas, Hondas, and other cars you find in the States, there were Jaguars and even some Lamborghini and Ferraris. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
As we walked to the hotel, I could hear the rustle of the leaves in the wind above me. I could tell this was going to be an exciting trip in London.