London alone

Monday, January 19

We were going to meet at 8:15 to head to the London Institute for Contemporary Christianity (LICC), where plenary is, with the TAs guiding. So I wake up to my alarm at 7:30 and turn it off—and promptly fall back asleep. I awake later to a knock on my door and scramble out of bed to see who it is. Laura, one of the TAs, is there, wearing her coat and hat. “What time is it?” I ask. “8:15,” she tells me.

At this point I remember the dream I was having when she woke me up. I wasn’t ready to go at 8:15, and it was 8:30 and everyone was standing outside waiting for me. The first part had come true—but the second part didn’t. Laura tells me that she and everyone else are going to leave now, and she shows me on a map how to get to the LICC. We’re supposed to be there by 9, but the lecture doesn’t start until 9:15. I have a chance.

I get ready as quickly as I can and then run down to the dining room to grab one of the awesome breakfast rolls. There are none in the basket, though, and when I ask someone she says they’re all gone. I leave at 8:30, hungry.

I stride down the street in what I think is the direction of the tube station, but I haven’t done the walk often enough yet and I accidentally take a long cut. I make it there okay, though, and I find the correct platform and wait for the train amidst a crowd of strangers. The train soon pulls in, packed full. As many people as possible squeeze on, but there’s no room for me.

So I wait for the next train, and when it comes the same thing happens. When this one leaves, though, I’m right in front of the tracks, ready to push my way into the third train. When it comes I do just that, jammed in with a bunch of strangers. And then there’s an announcement—there are delays on the line. So the train sits at the station. And keeps sitting. Wearing my coat, hat, and scarf and standing so close to so many other people, I get unbearably hot.

At last we leave only to stop again. After what feels like a terribly long time, I’m ready to scream and shove the surrounding people away. Instead I rest my head on my upraised holding-on arm and close my eyes.

Eventually the train does get to my station. I get out into the wonderful air, check my map, and head off—only to soon realize I’m going in the wrong direction. So I turn and go back. By now it’s past 9:15, and I slow down, my hope of getting there on time gone.

Some familiar sights come into view—a big building with blue shutters on the windows, the park where we ate lunch on Saturday. I know I’m close, but I don’t remember how exactly to get to the LICC from here. My mind was still foggy when Laura gave me the directions.

And then I see her—Laura, coming towards me out of the crowd. All I can do is grin with relief as she puts an arm around me and guides me the rest of the way to the LICC—which is actually straight down the street, no turns or anything.

At 9:30 we get to the front doors—and they won’t open. I pull and push them both, but they’re locked. Then Dr. Wardwell comes down the hallway and lets us in. When I step into the classroom, the other students, seated at two rows of tables, break into applause. My embarrassment is swallowed by utter relief and a feeling of triumph as I greet my friends and tell them the story.

I get a few surprises—one, they haven’t started without me (which is incredibly nice and unexpected of them) and two, I’m not the only one who didn’t leave with the group. Adam and Dan aren’t here. The professors decide to start, and just as Dr. Stewart is finishing the course introduction, the guys arrive. Everyone has made it to plenary safely and soundly—if not punctually.