Avianna's trip journal

London Bridge is falling down, or so I wish.

I’m sitting here at the Watchhouse, sipping a Flat White and staring at that gaudy, clunker of a river span. I’m so sick of being here. This was supposed to be a three-hour stop-over enroute to Rome, but here I sit, choking on pretentiousness, instead of savoring a velvety smooth Gelato with a genuine cappuccino to wash it down.

I can’t help feeling like I’ve been targeted by MI6. As I wrote in yesterday’s entry, the supposed “mishap” that stranded me here was far too perfect in its execution. I honestly can’t imagine what’s so special about me that they would do this to me. I mean, I’ve heard of things like this happening to other people, but me? C’mon.

I’ll admit to being somewhat fascinated by this country and its opulent monarchy, but after the first 24 hours of my sequestering here, I am, at the very least, disenchanted. On TV they’ve always seemed kind of smug to me and I always figured it was because of their immense wealth. But having been here for as long as I have now, I can now see that there is no wealth here. Not among the common folk anyway. It saddens me to see that they have such limited choices when it comes to things like food, clothing, and furniture. Hell, they can’t even get a decent piece of steak here.

I had the displeasure of talking to an Englishman for a while at the airport after I was denied access to my flight out of here. He said that he’d never been to America but if he could go there, the first thing he would do is go to a steakhouse. He went on to explain that steak as we Americans know it, doesn’t exist in England. Perplexed by his comment I asked, “there’s no steak here?”

He said, “well, not for us. Some places may have a grizzly piece of a steak-like substance but for the most part, there’s no such thing as a good Ribeye or T-Bone.

Then I asked, “not even for the royals?” and his answer to that one turned my stomach.

He said, “Oh no, they can get all the steak they want, and they do often”

I was so disgusted that I couldn’t think of anything else to talk to him about. He had kind of crooked teeth and as I’ve recently learned, most of the English don’t have access to decent dental care either. But, of course, the monarchy does. How shameful. They prance around in their gilded clothing and on their horse-drawn carriages, spending billions a year to maintain their ridiculously opulent lifestyles while doing virtually nothing for their people. Of course the people here can’t get dental care or a decent piece of meat, the royals are sucking up all their money. To be honest, my image of England has been completely shattered. And now I know why the United States was formed in the first place.

I can’t stand it here and I can’t wait to get back home. I don’t even care about Italy anymore, I just want to get back to my apartment, my cat, and my comfy cozy bed. I mean, America might suck right now because of that idiot we have in the Whitehouse, but at least we can fix that in the next election. These people are stuck with those money sponges forever. Do they even do anything anymore?

Last night I went to some pub around the corner from my hotel. There was nothing to eat. They had no vegan items, no calorie counts on the menu, nothing organic or free range, and when I asked for an impossible burger, the guy looked at me like I had three heads. He had no idea what I was talking about. How do people live like this?

I never thought I’d look forward to going back to the land of cholesterol and home of the greedy. I never thought I would long to be back under the boot-heel of power-hungry oligarchs, but here I am. I just can’t stand this country and all of its ridiculous rules.

Yesterday when I asked that guy if it pisses him off that the royals can have any food they want but he can’t, everyone in the place looked at me like I was crazy. And when I asked him why they continue to let the monarchy spend all their money, all he could say was that he loves his queen. I don’t get it. And you should have seen the way they looked at me after asking that question. Like I was saying something disgusting. Like, how dare I?

I just need to vent a little. I can’t believe that I’m stuck here and no one is even trying to help me. It’s just because I wear designer clothes, I’m sure of it. They’re jealous. Just like the lowlifes that only got into my school because they’re foreigners. They always make comments about my eyelash extensions and stare at my shoes, like they’ve never seen Red Bottoms before. Don’t they realize that my parents’ donations pay for their everything? Don’t they realize that if it wasn’t for people like me protesting for their rights, they wouldn’t have any?

I don’t know why the people here are so judgmental. I mean, it isn’t easy to live in America with a tyrant running the government. At least here you can have an abortion whenever you want to and legally marry anyone you want. We’re still in the dark ages back home.

Anyway, I’m really pissed off now because I called dad this morning and he said he was going to get me out of here. But I’m still here, drinking this bargain basement coffee and staring at a stupid bridge. I can’t believe those idiots at the airport did this to me. So what if I couldn’t find my passport? I obviously had it when I boarded the first plane, so, why do they need it again for the next one? Just because I spent a night in their stupid city, they’re not gonna let me fly to Rome now?

And who are they to tell me that I have to go get another passport myself. I’m supposed to call all these people and go to some stupid building that’s nowhere near my hotel because they won’t let me on a plane, even though they know, damn well, that I have a passport?

So what If I can’t find it? I think they took it out of my bag when I wasn’t looking. I’m positive that I put it back in my bag after showing it at JFK. Those flight attendants were jealous of me too. I could see it in their faces when I asked them for a two-pump vanilla Chai latte. “I’m sorry Ma’am, you’ll have to order something from our menu”

I’m sorry Ma’am, I’m sorry Ma’am is all they can say. It’s not my fault that they don’t know how to make a drink that like, everybody orders. I’m so sick of useless people. I really, really need to go home. The whole trip is ruined by now anyway. I’m going to bed now because I need to calm down so I can sleep. Who knows when someone will finally show up to help me.

+ + ++

Another foul morning in this dump of a hotel, four stars my foot. Everything in this place is a worship piece. Paintings of kings and queens and princes are all over the place, even in the elevator. I’m sitting here staring at a statue of some fat man with a wig on his head, while waiting for the useless waitress to find out if they can make me a spinach and quinoa breakfast bowl. She looked at me like she’d never heard of it before. I’m telling you, they hate me just because I’m used to real hotels and real restaurants.

The good news is that it’s my last day in this place. It’s actually a funny story. I called room service this morning and asked for a biscuit with jelly and these “four star” idiots brought me some kind of cookie and a bowl of Jell-O. Unbelievable.

But, it turned out to be a gift in disguise because when I got pissed and threw my bag at the mirror, everything inside it went flying around the room. I was so mad that I pushed the food cart out into the hallway, slammed the door and dove onto the bed to scream into a pillow. When I finished, I got out of bed, and you wouldn’t believe what I stepped on.

MY PASSPORT!!!

It was in my bag the whole time.

So, I called dad and he got me on the first flight out of here. And he felt so bad about me being stuck here for two days that he booked me an all-inclusive in Monaco, since I missed the flight to Rome. Happy happy happy!

I’m so glad that I don’t have to wait for some inept moron to finally get around to bringing me a new passport. I’m getting the hell out of this land of lousy food and over-privileged royalty. All I have left to say is, Goodbye London.