My Two Percent

My sister has peer pressured me into blogging again.  I just read her blog today and she wrote that one of the blogs that she reads regularly has started an idea to share with other bloggers.  A topic is suggested for the week and any fellow bloggers who would like to participate can do so.  Then everyone can read the different posts on the same topic.  Sounds like a great idea for when writer’s block strikes…which I’m guessing is why it was started.  I am going to attempt to join in on this.  Beware, I am a beginner blogger so I will try my best to keep up with all the pros out there as my sister, www.mommatimes.com guides me through this new world of internet storytelling.

So the story I am going to tell is a very old one.  And there is a good chance that I will only be able to remember about 80-90% of the details.  The specifics might be fuzzy but you will get the gist of it.  I am going on a camping trip this weekend with some friends, and due to that my mind is filled with lists of camping supplies, things to pack, food to buy, and all kinds of to-do lists associated with being in the wilderness for four days.  Which is what made me think of the story…my brain is in “packing” mode.  Although we aren’t going very far, I can’t help but replay trips I’ve taken in my lifetime and that is what brings me to my story.

When I was a junior in college my sister went abroad to study at the London Center through Ball State for a semester.  Always interested in exploring the world, my older sister Sara suggested that the other three siblings as well as her boyfriend Marc go at the end of Erin’s semester to visit her and see England.  My brother Nate decided to go a few days earlier than the rest of us due to work.  This meant he would also leave a few days before we did.

So we’re all in London having a fabulous time.  We decided to look into flying to Ireland after Nate left - it is a very short flight and not very expensive and when would we ever have this easy of an opportunity to see Ireland?  We got our tickets and were excited about our “trip within a trip”.  The night before Nate flew home and the rest of us flew to Dublin, we went out and stayed out a bit too late.  The next morning, Nate woke up super late and had to rush off to catch the tube to the Victoria Train Station where he would get on the express train to Heathrow Airport.   Sara, Marc, Erin and I also got up late (Nate was already gone) and rushed off to the Victoria Train Station where we would be catching the express train to Gatwick Airport. We made it onto our train and thought, whew, that was close.

 I remember the next part vividly.  I happened to be looking over at Erin, who had just opened her purse to get something out, and as she reached her hand in the purse her face suddenly went white.  She looked up at me with a look of shock.  “I have Nate’s passport.”  I think my mouth dropped as well, and we shared the news with Sara and Marc.  We all just kind of stood there not really knowing what to say or do.  We looked at our watches and realized that Nate’s plane was leaving soon and we would still be on this train when it left so there was pretty much nothing we could do.

Knowing that Nate wasn’t going to be able to get on his flight, and also knowing that he was pretty much out of money, we decided to get off of the train we were on and head the other way back to Victoria Train Station.   We finally found someone who not only had a cell phone but was kind enough to let four strangers use it.  Remember it’s 1997 - hardly anyone had a cell phone.  We nervously called our mother.  Nate had figured out he didn’t have his passport, was denied entrance on the plane (obviously) and had somehow managed to contact the American Embassy, who then contacted our mom.   

I always wonder what this phone call was like.  ”Um yes, Mrs. Schermerhorn, this is the United States Embassy calling from the Heathrow Airport in London, England. We have a young gentleman here who has no money and no passport.  He says he is an American citizen and that he is your son and he is trying to get home to the United States.”  Ok, obviously I made that up but seriously can you imagine?   What would you think as a mother?  Later on we found out that there had been a huge fire at the Heathrow Airport that morning which made international news.  I heard that my mom’s first thought when the Embassy called was “oh lord my son has managed to burn down Heathrow Airport.”   

So, with that information, we headed to the counter where my brother got onto the train to Heathrow.  We left an envelope with money and the passport, in HOPES that it would reach our brother.  We called our mom back and told her to contact the embassy and let Nate know his passport and some money were at the Train Station ticket counter to Heathrow.  Later when Nate finally did get the envelope, he said he was so grateful that Erin had left 30 pounds (sorry I can’t find a British “pound” symbol on my keyboard) in the envelope because he was completely out of money and had nothing to eat that day.  Cash was a hot commodity at the time, due to it being pre debit card days.

We left the train station and turned back around to head toward Gatwick to try to make our flight to Dublin.  We were going to be cutting it EXTREMELY close.  Basically it was going to be a small miracle if we made it on time.  When we got to the airport, we got to the check-in counter, checked in, and the guy behind the counter looked at us in all seriousness and said ”RUN!”.  So we took off in a full sprint carrying all of our luggage on our backs (this was before every standard piece of luggage had wheels).  And we had clearly missed luggage check-in time.  And….we made it….barely.  We certainly would not have made the flight if we had not ran.   To add to our already bizarre day, when we got to the actual plane to board it, we realized it was a TINY plane.  So tiny you went outside and climbed up a small set of steps to get into the plane.  TINY.  Scary tiny.  And turbulence is so much more noticeable in a plane that small.  I thought for sure we were going to plummet to our death on more than one occasion. 

I don’t remember the exactly details of how Nate ended up getting back, but I do know he ended up having to spend another night in London. I sure would love to hear the story from his point of view again after all these years.   I just remember thinking how the events of the day seemed like a bad movie…the phone calls to mom and the embassy, the switching of trains, the very slight chance that Nate would get the passport and money we left him at the train station, the running through the airport,the ridiculously tiny airplane.   When it was all said and done, the entire trip was amazing, and it sure gave us a great story to tell at Christmas that year. 

In: Family | | #