If there is one thing I like to remark, it’s that I love the British accent that Britons share. Yes, I am aware that there are subtle variations from region to region, but generally they all sound cool, regardless of it being from London or Edinburgh. So upon arriving into London at Heathrow International, the sound of that accent echoed everywhere.
To be honest, I don’t believe I have ever been around very many Britons in my lifetime; I can’t even recall prior to arriving in London the last time I saw or met a Briton (could have possibly been when I was in Washington, D.C. earlier in the summer). Needless to say, it was a delight being in London, despite my short stay there.
Getting to my location at Heathrow for my departure flight proved to be taxiing for myself, given that I had no sleep on the flight from the United States. The process began with a long march to the bottom of the terminal I had arrived in, where I had to await the arrival of a bus to carry me off to Terminal 5, where I would be departing. Time was pressing by this point, as I realized I had very little – if any – time to catch my flight to Amsterdam.
After reaching Terminal 5, it was another long march to reach security, where I had to go through the process once again with my luggage. I was tired and jumping between feeling extremely hot and very cold, which does horrors on my mind (it sucks). I definitely felt flustered through the whole process getting through security, but eventually recovered, donned my personal items, and proceeded to power walk my way to my departure gate, which was also a long march. (I get the feeling Heathrow wanted to put me through the gauntlet).
I did manage, thankfully, to catch my flight to Amsterdam just in time when boarding began. From there, it was a short jaunt across the water before landing in the Netherlands.