London and Customs

Well, the London airport turned out to be as terrible as Roger has always said it is. I had a huge amount of walking to do to get to customs, much less my gate. The customs lanes were poorly labeled, I was running after being up for about 18 hours, and the customs lady was horrible. Because 3 months is “a long time to spend touristing” she asked me all sorts of personal and invasive questions, and then assured me that no matter what the stamp she put on my passport said (it said I could stay for 6 months), I was not allowed to stay more than 3, and it was inexcusable for me not to be on my already ticketed return flight home. Sure, she was just doing her job, but I have to admit it was the hardest part of my trip, being tired and scared in a particularly unfriendly airport (I met NO nice personnell, and I asked around). But, to be fair, it is a smaller plane, with fewer people, and it’s nice to have a row to myself and a chance to relax and calm myself down. I’m hoping that London will be all the customs I have to go through, because I am tired and ready to see a familiar face.