Minnesota Nice, Italian Tourists & Westminster....

LONDON, LONDON, LONDON!

Oh.  I love London.  I could live there in an instant.  Granted, the Big Guy wouldn't come with me (something about gun laws--after all, he is a gun collector).  But I could live there and be as happy as a clam.  I am going to break this up into lots of different posts, simply because of the photos.

Fun Fact:  Gift cards for Starbucks work in every country!  HOORAY!
Granted, with the conversion I paid probably $7 for a small latte, but at least that gift card didn't go to waste!  

No.  I'm not "flipping the bird" to the Big Guy.

But it does look that way, doesn't it?

On Monday we were supposed to take a bike tour of London.  But after a rough nights sleep and the drama at the hotel, we got a late start, the tube was especially crowded for a Monday and we caught the wrong train out of Kings Cross. We had to do a quick change at another station--needless to say, we missed the tour.  Add to it that it was POURING rain, I was a little on the cranky side.  I also forgot the number to the bike tour place, so we couldn't call to notify them (we found out they waited for us...to wish we apologized, via e-mail).

Riding around London, in the rain, on a mountain bike was not what I wanted to do.

We stood in line for tickets to Westminster, in the rain.  Add to this the drama of the morning, and my crankiness was now at a 10.

Oh, I was a joy to be around.
Did I mention?  It was POURING RAIN.

As we were inching our way towards the entrance, 4 Italian tourists decided that the spot directly in front of us was the best place to stand--never mind the LONG line.  The Big Guy used his size to his advantage and didn't let them cut in front of us.  They shimmied in behind us and this is where I lost it.

Me:  EXCUSE ME!  The back of the line is BACK THERE *pointing to the back of the LONG line*
Them:  *Blank Stares*
Me:  *raised eyebrows*
Them:  Uhhhh...no English
Me:  BULLSHIT!  The back of the line is BACK....THERE....*pointing with more emphasis to the back of the line*
Me, to the Big Guy:  I don't care what country you're from, a line is a line.
Big Guy:  *wide eyes*  Feel better?
Me:  Yeah.  I kinda do!
Couple from Boston:  Thank you.  That's just rude....I don't care if it is a cultural thing, a line is a line.

So, aside from the tourists who thought they'd melt in the rain if they didn't cut in line, we got into Westminster and were in awe.  Me, being the geek I am, kept my ticket and actually scanned it so I'd have a copy forever.

And we have no photos to show of it except for this one--taken of the court yard.  No photos were allowed inside.

But they did give us a pretty cool brochure with a map:

While in the church, we followed the dotted line (see picture above) and we went out the little side door, to walk around the Cloister (where it says "finish", that entrance is where we walked outside).  We walked around and came in the other side door (just across from where it says "nave" on the map).  The Big Guy saw a very old, wooden door and commented about just how old that door must be.

I said, "Let's ask".
When we were inside, one of the priests happened to be standing by that entrance.  He asked if we had a question, so we asked it.  He said, "Well, I'm going to guess it's pretty old.  But you could always ask a volunteer, they may know more.  And if not, they're really good at stirring something up."  

We laughed, thanked him for his time, talked to a volunteer about the door (estimated date:  1300's...yep...old) and walked out to the gift shop.  Being the lover of All-Things Royal, I got sucked into buying the $10 souvenir book on the Royal Wedding.  

Back at the hotel that evening, flipping through it, I saw this picture and shouted at the Big Guy...

From Google Images

"THAT WAS THE PRIEST WE MET!"

He's lucky I didn't know that, because I would have asked if I could meet for a confession and would have asked him to tell me EVERYTHING about that day.  

Me:  Forgive me father, for I have sinned....it's been...well, I'm Lutheran, so this would be my first confession.

Father:  Go ahead my child

Me:  Father, I have an obsession with the Royal Family.  

Father:  Go on...

Me:  Well.  Is she as nice in person as I believe she is?  What was her dress like?  Was she nervous?  Did William really say "You look beautiful" when she got to the alter?  What was the crown like on her head?  

Oh, like you wouldn't do that, too.....

Up next:  Buckinham Palace and the biggest pancake I've ever eaten