Page 34 of Things I Overshared
But at least then I’d be awake.
There’s a fancy coffee machine in the kitchen
And I imagine tea, kettle, milk
And other tea things
Tea things?
I don’t know, British tea fixings?
I drink coffee!
Fixings?
You gotta read it without the g.
Fixin’s.
You know, accessories, trappings.
I found the coffee and tea. Thanks.
But did you find the fixin’s???
I chuckle at the exchange. Look at Emerson, texting like a normal, warm-blooded human being. Though I’m not surprised he stops replying. That was probably a long exchange for him. He probably needs a little nap after that much conversation, even via text.
I also have a little skip in my step knowing he’s keeping tabs on me. At the same time, my body feels like it’s been hit by a truck. It’s only after two o’clock, though, so I need to hang in at least five more hours. I decide to take the long way back, stopping for selfies at Buckingham Palace, Piccadilly Circus, and the British Museum.
I can feel I’m moving slowly, but I have another stop nearby the museum, it looks like from my notes. It’s just a few more blocks, and it’s on my list of London’s most Instagrammable spots. Not that I have a public Instagram anymore—sad trombone—but I want the vibes.
I put the St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel in my phone and keep walking, listening to music in my headphones and people watching as my lids grow heavier and heavier. But wow.
The Pancras has vibes on vibes.
I feel like I’m insideThe Crown,Harry Potter, andBridgertonall at once. The huge winding staircases have paisley carpets, fleur-de-lis wallpapers, pointed archways, gold light fixtures, stained glass windows, the works. I actually get a little dizzy.
Thank goodness for hotel bars. I make it to the swanky bar off the lobby as my vertigo subsides. I sit and get a water and a 7 Up, which somehow costs me over ten US dollars, but I don’t care. I gulp both. I quickly realize it . . .
Sitting down was a terrible mistake.
How will I ever get back up?
I try to rally, standing on sore feet, my legs screaming that they should be in bed. I manage to get moving again, off the chair and out through the lobby.Must get back to the hotel. Just keep moving.But at the crosswalk outside of the hotel, groggy, I step out without looking and almost get hit by one of those old-timey-car-but-modern taxis.
As I leap backward in a rush, I stumble and sidestep into a metal trash can, killing my shin. I stand and try to breathe. I can’t believe what just almost happened. I can’t find oxygen. I’m so tired, I almost lived out one of my greatest fears. That taxi almost crushed me. I also realize how close I’d come to pulling a Skye, as we call it in my family, and falling face-first into the concrete. I get out my phone with shaking hands. I have a twenty-five-minute walk to the hotel with a throbbing leg.Crap!
Me: Hey so
I need Charlie’s number
Mistakes were made.
Legs were injured.
Emerson: Are you hurt??
I’m not bleeding.
