So, we drag
ourselves out of bed at around 6am on Tuesday morning, pack up all of our
belongings yet once again, and jump in a taxi to drive to the train
station. Upon arrival, we are required
to fill out the necessary paperwork in order to re-enter the UK. Of course, a form was required for each
individual so I had the privilege of filling out the same information 4
different times. Once that was
accomplished, we stood in line to pass through customs. Seeing the lines growing longer and longer,
an attendant who was trying to be helpful redirected us to another line in hopes
we would be processed more quickly. At
this point, we are realizing our train will be departing very soon and the line
for them to check our passports and documents is not moving at all! The same attendant recognizes the dilemma and
pulls all of the passengers for the 8:45 train up to the front. In our line, this does us no good. They border agents have “detained” the
gentleman in front of us and we are stuck, with the clock tick-tick-ticking away. Finally, when it becomes clear that missing
our train is a highly likely scenario, the attendant allows us to cut to
another line where our agent casually peruses our documents, completely
unconcerned we have less than 10 minutes to get our bags through security and
down to the platform. The pressure was
on and we were absolutely helpless to speed up the process. The control freak’s worst nightmare! Finally, we were granted permission to
proceed and swiftly made it through security when our friendly French attendant
looked at us from the other side and in his fancy accent said, “You must
run!” Well, with 3 adults, 3 kids and 12
pieces of luggage, running isn’t exactly a feasible option but if we wanted to
make it on that 8:45 train to London, it appeared running was our ONLY
option. So, we took off as fast as our
bodies would carry us and ran a good 100 yards to the platform, only to be told
the car we were in was located at the front of the train. With renewed vigor, we “sprinted” (I used the
term loosely because I doubt anyone watching us would call what we did
“sprinting”) another 100 yards to arrive at our train car with only 2 or 3
minutes to spare before departure. And
truth be told, I think they held it for us (a piece of information they could
have shared, which would have spared us the mad dash to the train all
together!). The good news is that we
made it; I’m not sure there was any bad news, but that was way more stress than
I needed to experience before 9 in the morning.
Sadly, I fear this experience could have scarred Maddie for life; ever
since, she has been desperately afraid we will miss whatever mode of
transportation we are scheduled to travel on.
Sorry Mad-dog…at least we’ll have an explanation for when you get older
and have to arrive at an airport at least 3 hours before departure!
The middle
of the day was quiet. We needed it after
our escapade back in Paris. After some
rest, we all climbed in a cab and went to Hamley’s Toy Store. This place was astounding! Five floors of pure kid-heaven…toys, toys and
more toys. Each kid received a
predetermined spending limit and was allowed an hour to shop around. We could have stayed there for a lot longer
but traffic was a nightmare and it was already 6:30pm with dinner still on the
agenda. As you can imagine, the kids
loved it and seeing their enjoyment blessed each of the adults as well. With treasures in hand, we jumped back in a
taxi to go and have dinner at Jamie’s Italian and then back to the hotel for
another night of rest. With only one day
left in our travels, you would think things would start winding down. Oh no, my friend…there are still a few more
memorable tales to share!
