I’m waiting for the train from York to London. There are a good number of people on the platform with me. Our train is due at 16:34; it is now 16:15. A train pulls up, a load of people get on, I sort of wonder if this is my train. I look at the departures board and it still says “London 16:34 on time” – I figure it would say “Arrived” if it was here. Or at least I hope.

I don’t do anything. But as I sit on the platform and other people get on the train, I tart thinking, “Maybe it leaves at 16:34, which means it would have to get here before 16:34…16:15 is before 16:34…” The train doors close at 16:20-something. I’m thinking this is a good sign, especially since there are still people on the platform. I decide to stand and wait closer to the loading area. A few minutes later another train rolls in. This time I am close enough to see a sign on the window that reads “London – King’s Cross” – it’s still before 16:34 but I figure, what the hell, I’m going to London, even if this is not my train, I’ll still get where I need to go. So, I get on.

For the first time in my 7 times on a UK train I have reserved a seat, a table seat no less. This is awesome because the train is full! I actually find space for my suitcase, too! So far, so good.

I pull out my book. I started reading Catcher in the Rye more than 2 months ago, and it’s probably been about a month and a half since I last read any of it. For those of you who have read Catcher in the Rye, you know that it’s only about 200 or so pages. It should not take this long to read.

I picked it up near the end of the summer and I thought, Hmm, this is a classic, right? I mean it’s been on high school curricula since the dawning of time. I figured there must be something good about it, so I bought it. I’ve pretty much described everything I know about the book just there, it’s an American classic and high school kids read it.

Now, I’m halfway through this book and I don’t really get it. I feel like if I met this kid I’d want to sit him down, tell him to calm down and take a breath, and then I’d remove any caffeine from the area. And if that didn’t work I’d grab him by the shoulders and shake him a little. The whole book is one big long thought. The book is doing what I’m doing right now; just one big “there was this one time” story. I am the next Holden Caulfield! High school curricula, here I come. I want to finish reading this so I can start reading about it. I also want to see if anything actually happens.

I do like the language in it, the 1940s and ‘50s slang; although, at first it was a little irritating. Everything in the book was “a damn” something or “really killed” him. But now I’m getting more into it. I’ve even tried including some of the jargon into my speech. I asked one of my housemates if he gave a girl “the time” – he just stared at me. I’d like to say it was just because he’s English, but I’d never heard the saying before this book, either. I’m also referring to everything as “the old” something. “Ah, you’re watching the old Jeopardy, eh?” “I see you’re making yourself the old curry and rice combo; good choice,” etc.

I’m trying to think of ridiculous ways this book can end, like Holden’s been dead the whole time and he’s a ghost narrator. Or he slips into a coma and the story line occurs just before the book does and he’ll come out right at the end to realise none of that happened and he didn’t fail out of school. Or, just the old dream sequence. Anyway, the book is written in past tense, so maybe we’ll catch up to his present self, telling the story, for the ending. Because right now I can’t imagine it ending any other way than him saying, “And then it was Wednesday, and I went home. The end.” And maybe that is the ending; maybe its simplicity is what made it a classic.

Anyway, I’m on the train in my reserved table seat reading Catcher in the Rye when my phone gives me a missed call alert (How did I miss a call? I had my cell on the table. Stupid useless phone). It was my friend Aleks (I’m staying at her place in London tonight). So, I send her a message back (because I hate being the one person talking on a quiet train). I say, I’m on the train, it’s on time, and I ask her what’s up? Later, about 20 minutes from London, I get a slew of delayed-delivery messages from Aleks saying she can’t have me over anymore. (Damn you, phone!) Apparently, her building has a no guest policy and someone had been abusing it so now they have security patrolling the halls. Well, being that I was on a train there wasn’t much I could do. I tried to look up some hostels using the internet on my phone, but of course, I didn’t have the right software to open any of the webpages. And we’d be in London too soon to make it worth pulling out my laptop. So, I wait.

We pull into King’s Cross station, exactly 2 hours after leaving York. I collect my things and walk through the station, scanning every café window on the way to see if any of them offer free wi-fi. Finally, I ask a police officer, who suggests St. Pancras station across the street.

After trying to get a hold of Aleks via regular phone call (couldn’t get through) I decide the internet is my only option. I learned that St. Pancras is entirely wi-fi-ed, yay! I see a sign for sushi and am immediately drawn in. I figure I’ll eat sushi, I’ll surf the web, I’ll get sorted. Unfortunately, I get seated at a bar style seat with no room for my computer. I still enjoyed the sushi though, even if I grew slightly more and more worried about where I’d spend the night. The sushi came around on two conveyor belts and you could pick whatever you wanted off the belt. The plates were colour coded depending on their price. For some reason, though, every plate was blue. Luckily, it was the second cheapest option. Still kind of pricey though, so I didn’t eat too much. (Plus, you had to pay for the tap water! I think I looked shocked enough that they didn’t charge me.) Also, I knew I’d probably have to buy something from where ever I find to sit and use the internet.

I found a café and bought a hot chocolate from an Australian guy. I grabbed a comfy seat and pulled out my laptop. After my first few searches revealed “No vacancies” I started to get a little worried. Then I decided to call the first and cheapest result in my next search. It’s a little hotel called Skylane and it’s 10 minutes from the airport. Plus, they provide free transport from the hotel to the airport. This is good news because my flight is early and not having to pay for a cab is choice. I call the number on the screen and it’s a booking agent, not the actual hotel. This is fine by me; at least I am making progress. She tells me she’s found a really good deal, only £34.50! She asks if I want to book it, it sounded better than spending the night on the airport floor, so I say go for it. Soon, I’ve paid for and secured a room. A wave of relief comes over me and I decide I’d better get myself to the airport so I can take advantage of the free pick up service.

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch, except for the minor exception when they thought I’d booked two rooms, but that got sorted out and I went to my room to crash. I went to bed earlier that night then I had in a long time, which probably explains why I woke up at 4 AM and couldn’t fall back asleep for a while. Eventually, I do fall back asleep until my 6 AM wake up call. Morning is easy since I didn’t unpack anything. I lug my suitcase down three flights of stairs and hop a free ride to the South Terminal.

My plane-missing-phobia has me at the airport ridiculously early. Especially considering that Gatwick doesn’t tell you what gate to go to until and hour before take off.

I get breakfast at a place called Frankie & Benny’s. It’s a chain that claims to be a “New York Style Eatery and Bar.” Apparently, England thinks that it’s still 1964 in New York City, judging by the music and decorations. Not that I mind, I’m a sucker for the oldies. After I spend an obscene amount of time in there nursing two eggs and toast, I check the board for my gate. It’s up. I head to gate 31. The sign tells me to allow 20 minutes to walk there and I’ve only got an hour before my departure time. It took me 4 minutes to walk there.

I, once again, play the sit and wait game at the gate (I’m getting pretty good at it). Then, once we’re on the plane, I play the sit and wait in more confined quarters game.

While on the plane, I realise that the woman who narrates the safety video is the same woman who narrates the How It Is Made TV show. I love that show. I have to pee but I’m by the window and I don’t want to ask the two guys beside me to move. I’m thirsty, too, but I’m afraid if I drink I’ll have to pee more. I’ll go after they serve the snack.

The movies are over and they start showing TV shows, they are playing Just for Laughs: Gags. I’m almost in Canada now.

NOTE: I eventually did finish reading Catcher in the Rye. In short, reading it was like getting a flu shot. You don’t like it when it’s happening but afterwards you’re glad you went through it.