Weeping in the seat the stewardesses tried to console me. The flight had just hit the 10 hour mark and had 6 more to go. After two nights of “sleeping” in airports and hardly any food, my mind cracked, I just sat, crying, watching Ice Age 2 on repeat. In their thick Indian accents they continuously asked “Do you ned a blanket, peelow sur?” The lack of the word 'Or' was driving me mad, as if the blanket and pillow were the same, and the E sounds PEELOW, PEEELOW. Finally I couldn’t drown them out with my self-pity and I simply said “please”. Those were the comfiest peelows I had ever had. I was lucky enough to have all three seats to myself. After putting up the arm rails I slept like a baby for six solid hours without a single interruption. I landed in the Heathrow airport in London from Dubai, only to notice my debit card and all of my cash money was missing, I knew this would be a fun trip...

    I quickly found out that it was impossible to leave the airport without paying for a bus or taxi; not like I really had anywhere to go seeing how I couldn’t pay for a hotel or hostel. I sat for a moment to collect my thoughts. As I watched the people pass I noticed that everyone, for the most part, were up-beat as they went about their travels. The people just seemed excited and because of that I didn't feel like I was in any danger, it was nice to know that at least in this place people were happy. I don’t know exactly how many hours I spent just sitting in the third terminal for international passengers but it certainly felt like a while. As I tried to think of a way out of this airport, which was slowly growing on me, I remembered I had a 10 dollar bill crammed in some disgusting old jeans I decided never to wear again because they were vomited on, a lot, not like a cute vomit either, like OMG WTF MAN Vomit. Anyway no matter how much I washed those jeans I could never get the stain out, or the memories for that matter. Until this point I considered that 10 dollar bill a lost cause, but I needed that vomit money.

    I started to dig through my things right there in the terminal, I hesitated for a moment to think about if I should do this in the restroom. I was digging through everything I had for vomit money in vomit jeans; I haven’t showered in a week or changed my clothes, what decency I had left wouldn’t be saved by moving to the restroom. Naturally to preserve my other belongings I packed the jeans as deep into my pack as I could, but luckily I was able to reach down and feel the crusted residue that could never be purged from the left legging, then slipped my hand into the pocket which was almost seared closed from when I tried to burn the stain out, and retrieved the bill.

    I felt like quite the badass when I slapped the note onto the Western Union counter and said “I would like this in English money please!”. The man lifted my hand, looked at the note then at me, and simply said “We don’t exchange pocket change.” I thought his rhyme was clever, then thought 'We're in England he better be damn clever'. As I sat contemplating my life as a hobo living in the third terminal I had a clever, no genius idea of my own. I went into a little quicky mart and bought gum, the cheapest thing I could find, I felt awesome when she gave me the money back in pounds. The 5 pounds and change at first seemed like a dreadfully small amount because it was all in coins, but then I knew just how perfect it was. I want to the payphone and dialed home for help.

    The sign on the payphone clearly stated 50c per minute for long distance. I had 10 minutes. I dialed as slowly as I could while my mind went over and over what I was going to say, by the time my mother answered, and thank the English lord she did, I had my story perfect. In just two minutes I explained everything I was like the Usain Bolt of speech. After I was done and waited for a response she had the perfect idea of emailing her because she didn't understand a word I said. Luckily for me Internet was 10 minutes per pound. After a couple of emails my mother told me that she was going to look into wiring money from my account to the Western Union in the airport. This was new to us, so we didn't know how long the process would take. The plan was for me to check the email every few hours until we had a better plan. For two days I waited.

    After not eating for a few days your body goes into a state of borderline euphoria, the hunger stops and everything seems brighter, I read somewhere that this is when your body starts to eat itself as a final defense against death. I didn't care it was wonderful. I had also become totally accustomed to sleeping in the airport; at night the whole place becomes another world where people set up little camps to wait out the night. On one of these nights I was surrounded by children as I told them stories of my adventures throughout the East. After traveling I learned one thing more than anything else, how to wait, and wait I did. After the second day my mother sent the email that said it was all ready, and that she would send the confirmation number soon. I was relieved, however reading that email, THAT EMAIL, that said there was only one more email to go was the last of my money, my internet was gone.

    I being the genius American I am had another brilliant idea however. I went to the Western Union, where the money would soon be transferred and made a collect call home, I don't know why I didn't think to do this before it worked beautifully. My mom answered and said only had more question, “How much would you like me to send, $1000 USD is the maximum?”. I looked at the man who insulted my pocket change and said, “Send the Maximum!”. She said okay it will be there shortly.

While I waited a pretty young lady asked me how long I had been there, I told her just about 4 days, which by this time it had been. She asked if I had eaten, and I told her no, I was no longer bothered by this fact for my body and mind felt fine. I don't know if it was my good looks, or relatively perfect teeth, which when compared to the English isn't saying much but, She however, panicked gave me 20 pounds and ordered that I go get food from the quicky mart where I got the gum. I did, they sold these half sandwiches, for two pounds, I got a couple of them and some orange juice. After the first bite my mouth watered, and my mind went into some primal state for when I came to I had eaten 10 more, which I have no memory of buying, and drank so much juice my pee was orange for weeks after.

     The Western Union man called me over, we were pretty familiar with each other at this point, because the money had gone through. I almost laughed as he counted out the almost 600 Pounds, I felt like a god.

     When I finally got out, I stayed in a super nice hotel, and slept for two straight days. Soon after I made my way to a Hostel, the Yellow Banana or something similar, and met a man named John, John from York. He looked at me and said, “I like you. Have you ever been on a pub crawl?”. The answer was no because it was still illegal for me to drink in the states, but before I could answer he said, “I John from York am taking you on your fist pub crawl!”. I have to admit I had a lot of fun, with John and the other locals, I seemed to fit right in.

    After I was able to explore London and England in general, I realized I loved it. Everything from the speech, to the way they dressed. I spent two weeks in Oxford and a week in London going on Pub
crawls and visiting Harry Potter locations. It was like a dream with the small cozy streets and black
cabs. Even the weather was perfect you could wear a sweater all of the time, and it wasn't even super
cold. My time there was one of the most enjoyable times I've had away. It felt like even though I was so far from Arizona, I was home. When it was time to leave for the next adventure I was sad again, not because of the super long flight without pillows, but because knew I would miss it. I know now that the best things come with long waits, if you can't be patient then you will truly miss out.