Martin and I traveled to London for our honeymoon.
Our flights were paid for by my good friend Karin as a wedding gift, which was such an amazing gesture. Neither of us had been to London before, so we were both really looking forward to it.
(Especially me, since I hoped we’d bump into David Beckham or Robbie Williams…..hee,hee…)
We left the day after our wedding from Hahn Airport, which was a good three hours drive from Nuremberg, but being a discount airline, RyanAir only flies out of certain locations. So, we left in the afternoon after spending the morning with our wedding guests before they flew home. It was so sad saying goodbye to my family – I only really see them now once a year – but it made me so proud that Martin and I were able to show them a good time in Germany. For most, this was their first trip outside of America. And by all accounts, one they won’t soon forget.
So, Martin and I drove off to the airport, so in love and so excited and anxious to get there. We planned plenty of time to get there, but …. we ended up driving to Hahn, Germany. Which is not home to Hahn Airport. In fact, when we realized we were lost and pulled into a gas station for directions, the cashier immediately handed us a print-out with a map showing how to get to Hahn Airport from Hahn, Germany … a full hour away.
Fortunately, this is Germany and Martin is very good on the Autobahn. We got to the airport with 10 minutes to spare. So we checked out luggage, zipped through security and zipped over to our gate, where we were last to board.
We got to London pretty late and had to take a taxi – one of those big, black British taxis – to the hotel.
Our first day was pretty nice. We walked around and got ourselves oriented. We visited the British Museum, which was only a few blocks away. We also pre-ordered tickets to Madam Tussaud’s Wax Museum and the Phantom of the Opera at Her Royal Majesty’s Theater.
The next day, we visited more museums and walked around the city, where we got our first celebrity encounter.
As we walked down a street, I noticed a helicopter hovering over us. It didn’t have a strobe light on, though, as if looking for someone, so I mentioned to Martin that they usually only do that as part of a security detail.
And then we noticed a crowd lined up at the bottom of the street. So, we ran up to it to see what was going on, which was when I took this photo of Martin giving me a super smokey glance over his shoulder.
We pushed through the crowd just in time to see a motorcade whiz past us, followed my a hearse covered in flowers. And all the people started cheering and applauding, some bowed their heads …. it dawned on me right away that this was the Queen Mum, who had passed away days before. Martin and I just happened to stumble upon her funeral procession.
I managed to get this picture of it, to include some really British red-headed guy.
The next day, I woke up feeling as sick as a dog (which happens to be a very British expression for feeling downright awful.) Instead of being curled up in my husband’s arms, I was curled up in a fetal position with my head hovering over the toilet. So the whole morning, Martin brought me water and toast and we stayed in our hotel room watching the BBC. By the afternoon, at least I could stand without feeling like the room was moving, so we left and headed out to see the sights. We almost made it to London Bridge, but I felt really bad all of a sudden, so we got a photo of it from afar before returning to the hotel.
The next day, I was still feeling horrible, but we went to the wax museum, where we passed a looooong line of people waiting to get inside. Good thing we had pre-ordered our tickets because we were able to walk up to the door and get right inside.
The next day, I woke up feeling worse than any of the previous days, so once again, we spent the morning watching the BBC while I made quick, sporadic trips to the bathroom. Poor Martin. It was definitely not the way he wanted to spend his honeymoon, but he was a good sport about it. In the evening, I mustered enough energy to get dressed up, since we had tickets to the theater, which wasn’t too far from Piccadilly Square. We took some photos, but be warned: I look as white as a ghost.
Then we walked to the theater, but along the way, we stumbled upon another crowd of people. Our theater was on the other side, and we were going to be late and I wasn’t feeling well, so I wasn’t being very patient, so I just pushed my way through the crowd with Martin behind me. And with one final push, we made it to a clearing, only to realize everyone was staring at us with cameras.
That’s when I noticed we were on a red carpet. Somehow, we had literally pushed our way into the middle of a movie premiere. When I realized what was going on, I pulled Martin with me to the other side, through ANOTHER crowd and stopped to look back. We asked a young man next to us what was going on. He looked at us as if we were nuts. “Don’t you know? It’s Kevin Spacey. This is the premiere for the movie K-Pax.”
And then, sure enough, a really nice car pulled up and I made Martin take a photo over everyone’s heads as Jeff Bridges got out of the car, because I couldn’t see anything. It was our second celebrity encounter.
The theater was gorgeous and old, and the seats were very narrow, so once everyone was seated, you couldn’t get out of your row, which was horrible because during the first scene, I suddenly felt VERY sick. I couldn’t even open my mouth for fear of losing it all. We were seated in the middle of the third row from the stage, too. Without saying a word, I had to literally crawl over everyone’s knees and laps to make it out of the aisle and I ran to the lobby and barely made it into the ladies room in time. It was horrible. The worst of the entire week.
And to make matters worse, I had to wait outside of the lobby until the first scene was over before joining Martin again. The usher wasn’t very friendly, either.
“You really should have waited until the intermission to use the lieu,” he whispered. “You can’t go back and forth like that.”
I really wanted to inform him that I would have made things a lot worse for ALL of them had I waited even two more seconds, but just kept my mouth shut and climbed my way back to my seat when he let me back in.
Other than that, the musical was amazing.
By the last day in London, I was feeling so much better (since I probably threw up whatever bug was ailing me during Phantom of the Opera), so we walked around some more, visited a bunch of museums and the London Eye.
Martin snapped this photo of me looking out the window after we packed our things. I was bummed that I was so sick for three of the five days we were in London.
But it really was a nice time with my husband.