London was amazingly overwhelming. Troy had been on solid ground for little more than 2 hours and his head was already spinning.

His flight had landed just past 9AM. He knew he didn't need to report to Oxford until Monday morning, so he decided to find a hostel to stay for the weekend. His travel guide suggested one called Generator. It said it was geared toward backpackers around his age and was relatively inexpensive.

Not wanting to seem inexperienced, he decided not to ask for directions and try to figure out the "London Tube" all by himself. Like the big boy he was.

Before he'd left, his mother had given him a traveler's guide of London. Inside was a full map of the underground system. It was a strange grid of criss crossing colors and unfamiliar words. At first glance he found the whole thing to be terrifying. How could he possibly figure this out? He took a few calming breaths and then started deciphering the chaos.

As best as he could determine, the hostel was closest to the Euston Square station. And the only way he could see to get to the Euston Square station was from the King's Cross Station. And the only way to get to the King's Cross station from Heathrow Itn'l Airport was by train. So he needed a train ticket. And to get a train ticket he needed to exchange his money. To the exchange kiosk it was.

The money exchange was a bit depressing. He'd had a good amount of money when he left the states, but now it was cut almost in half. He hoped he'd have enough to make it through the weekend. It would probably be pretty close. Once he got to Oxford and received his international bank card he'd been fine, but until then all he had was the cash in his pocket.

From the currency exchange desk he went to find a train ticket. After a few minutes of aimless walking he stumbled upon the ticket window. He told the woman where he wanted to go and was told that if he waited an hour for rush hour to be over his ticket would be noticeably cheaper. Not thinking twice he purchased a ticket for the 10:15 train to the King's Cross Station.

He'd spent his hour long wait in the airport people watching. It was a subconscious hobby of his that helped pass the time quite quickly.

There was the family seemingly returning from somewhere. Apparently the teenage daughter was not happy and called her father a "slag." Troy didn't know exactly what a slag was, but knew from the tone of her voice and the reprimand she received from her mother that it wasn't a compliment.

Then there was the Indian family in all of their colorful regalia. They were barking orders to each other left and right with no one seeming to follow any of them. They were a rather harried bunch and Troy was grateful to not be involved.

Next came a group of young men, all of whom were sporting Barcelona gear. Troy assumed they were soccer fanatics. They were loud and boisterous, all in a good mood. Troy assumed they were on their way to or from a game. It reminded him a bit of high school and the game day pep rallies he'd had a part in.

Before Troy knew it, his wait was up and it was time to board his train. He grabbed his bag and made his way to the platform. Figuring out which end of the train to actually get on took just a moment and before he knew it he was ready for departure. The train itself offered more chances to watch and try to learn. Much of the lingo flowing around him was new and Troy strove to comprehend.

The thing that stuck out most to Troy, even more than the vernacular, was the intonation everyone used. It was a lilting and kinda melodious sound. Of course he'd heard a British accent before, but to be completely surrounded by it was a bit surreal. It kinda brought home the fact that Troy was in a different country. Made him realize just how real this experience was.

The trip to the Euston Square station lasted about 45 minutes. Nervous about missing his stop, Troy had spent the last few minutes staring out the window trying to see the names of the stops. He had a firm grip on his luggage and was ready to literally run off the train. He knew that should the doors slide closed before he could get off he'd be completely lost. Even armed with his map of the tube he didn't want to risk anything.

Despite his nerves, Troy safely made it off the train and onto the platform. Once on the platform he had to stop and gather himself. Everywhere he looked there were sure-footed people racing around. They all knew exactly where they were going; they probably did this everyday and Troy found it all just a little intimidating.

Finding a relatively quiet spot at the end of the platform, Troy pulled out his map. The King's Cross station was one of the main stations. It was an interchange point for three separate train lines. He needed to get on the Metropolitan line to get to Euston Square. Easy enough.

Luckily for Troy the underground was full of directional signs pointing uncertain travelers in the

right direction. Troy followed the signs up stairs, then back downstairs, around numerous corners and passed many a street performer. It was all a bit exhausting. Finally he found the platform for the Metropolitan line. He was a bit early for the train, so he took the moment to rest.

Soon enough the platform began to shake. The sound of a fast approaching train could be heard from the tunnel to Troy's right. People began moving up to the yellow line, craning their necks for a peak at the train. In a matter of moments it arrived, open its doors, took on it's passengers, closed it's doors, and sped off leaving Troy in a sate of shock. It had all happened so fast that he hadn't even moved. He'd missed the train. Now he had to wait for the next one.

After just a few minutes, another train could be heard approaching. This time Troy was prepared. He stepped up to the yellow line trying not to jostle anyone. The train pulled to a stop with a door almost directly in front of Troy, and he was easily able to haul his luggage on and find a seat.

Ready to be done with the whole underground tube thing Troy kept his eyes pealed for the Euston Square stop. Luckily it was the first one. As the train slowed to a stop Troy was once again more than ready to get off. And with no problem at all he was off the train ready to get the hell out of the underground.

The trip back to the street level was once again long and winding. There were stairs and people and an escalator that had to have gone up 3 or 4 stories. After a good twenty minutes, Troy could finally see day light. Once outside, he stopped to catch his breath and steady himself. The last hour of his life had been nerve wracking and insane. He was glad to be done with. And deciding to swallow his pride he took a cab the the hostel.

An hour later Troy was safely tucked into his bunk in the hostel sleeping off his first day in London. He'd planned on doing a little sightseeing and grabbing a bite to eat, but jet-lag combined with the stress of the underground knocked him out. He didn't even have time to greet his dorm mates before passing out. The last thought to cross his mind was, "Well I guess I'm officially in London."

He fell asleep smiling.

*This chapter is based entirely on my first day in London. It was completely terrifying and by the time I got to the hostel all I could do was sleep. Although, we didn't take a cab. Oh no. We hauled our luggage around for a good 3 hours looking for the Generator. It was hellacious.

Hopefully things will pick up in the next chapter. I'm posting as I write and don't really know where the story is going. I have a feeling it will ALL be based on my personal experiences.

Thanks for reading,

-Gesika