Touchdown in Londontown

Or rather, a total fumble!

My arrival in Gatwick was a total disaster. My crackberry decided it didn't want to read its SIM card. Then I come out of customs to find one bright blue blag left on the conveyor belt. Something inside of me said "read the tag, read the tag"- and what should've been "Andrea Feczko" was actually "Madeline" from Georgia.

Who's named Madeline anymore?

Being a New Yorker I tried, in vain, to talk my way out of the situation. Can't they go through customs really quickly and track down the woman with my bag?

"Uhh, no, miss."

Shit.

So I went through customs, without a bag, determined not to cry.

As I was riding on the express train to Victoria Station I thought, hey, isn't this a cool concept, coming to London with literally no baggage? I also spied my 350 pounds a good friend from my bar left me and then thought- Shopping!!! TOPSHOP come to Momma!

I got into Victoria Station and after 30 minutes of toiling through my crackberry with the Vodafone guy I finally got it to work. This was just in time for me to receive the text messages from my friend (who had been receiving calls from Georgia about the mix up) that my baggage was back at Gatwick.

Being out 80 dollars in less than two hours and dreams of a necessary shopping spree ripped from me, I could find two lessons out of this story:


1. Don't fly into Gatwick. The last time I went there I missed my flight to Portugal on the day of the London Bombings.
AND
2. Even weirdly colored blue bags need interesting luggage tags, like above. I personally dig the "These are my shoes, bitch!" one. :)