At a Stranger’s Mercy – London

I was recently talking to a friend about my Europe travels and how I found myself “at a stranger’s mercy” several times during my adventures.  Now I know this phrase is usually associated with danger and bad endings, but thankfully I had positive experiences resulting in memorable stories.  Over several blog posts, I would like to tell you about a few of these strangers and the way they touched my life.

The first of these stories occurred towards the end of my first trip to Europe.  Since my route home would take me through London Heathrow airport, I decided to stop over in London for a couple nights before flying back to the US.  So on that particular day, my plane flew from Salzburg, Austria to London Gatwick airport in the afternoon.  At which point I proceeded to face the most complicated public transportation juggernaut of my life.

Upon landing at Gatwick airport, I had to take a tram from one airport terminal to another terminal.  At that terminal, I purchased a train ticket to Victoria Station which took me all the way into the heart of the city, arriving about an hour and a half after landing.  There I purchased an Oyster (payment) card to use on the London underground during my stay.  I found myself studying one of those enormous maps of all the tube routes on the station wall.  Eventually I figured out the two different lines I needed to take to get from Victoria Station to Paddington Station (Yes, THAT Paddington Station, as in Paddington Bear!).  And from Paddington Station, I was supposed to have only a short 8 minute walk to my hotel.

Now about Paddington Station . . . it is a VERY large station with exits on both sides of the road.  I arrived rather disoriented, and when my Google map app directions told me to turn left upon exiting the station, I had NO idea which side of the road the app was using!  And it was raining . . .  When I say raining, this was NOTHING like the rain experienced in my native land of Washington state, a place known to all Americans for its rain.  No, my dear reader, this rain was like standing in your shower . . . only outside and fully clothed.  It had been raining so hard for so long that day that the bodies of water formed over the crosswalks were large enough to be given their own name.

As I stared out the doors of the station onto the street, I realized I needed to figure out how to transport two suitcases and one duffle bag while simultaneously holding an umbrella for what should be an 8 minute walk to my hotel.  I finally figured out that I could hold my umbrella over my head by wrapping the handle in my duffle bag straps on my shoulder, leaving a free hand for each of my wheeled suitcases.  After taking one more look at Google maps, I put my phone in my pocket and headed out into a deluge the likes of which has not been seen since Noah built an ark. 

Remember when I said that Paddington Station had exits on both sides of the road?  Well, I decided it MUST mean the exit on the side of the main atrium where I was standing, so I confidently set out down the street to my left.  About 5 minutes later that confidence disappeared as Google kept changing its mind, confused by all the tall buildings surrounding me.  I stopped and pulled out my phone to see that I must be farther from my destination, so I turned around and doubled back.  Since I did not have a free hand, I had to keep stopping so that I could pull out my phone and check on my position relative to my destination.  I changed the direction I was walking at least twice more until I was convinced that I must be heading the right way at last.  All the while, despite my poor little umbrella’s best efforts, I was becoming increasingly soaked.

I kept walking in the direction of my hotel, periodically stopping to see if Google maps could tell where I was and tell me where I should go.  Eventually I ended up at a crossroad named Eastbourne Terrace.  Well, I knew my hotel was on Westbourne Terrace, and in America this generally means that the streets are linear extensions of each other with some major road dissecting the east and west sections.  But this made no sense based on what my app was saying.  It was offering two different directions I could head, neither of which I could seem to get oriented with my location.  I felt hopelessly lost at that point.  I had taken shelter under this corner overhang of an office building entrance and was on the verge of just sitting down on the sidewalk and crying.

You’re probably thinking, well that’s very sad Emily, but what about the stranger??  Enter stage right one lovely British stranger.  Desperate and feeling like giving up, I see this man coming up the sidewalk.  Now in southern states, approaching a stranger is far less intimidating for me than in other states.  Having only a Washington background at that point, I was trepidatious of flagging down a random person and hoping he would stop in the middle of whatever business he was rushing towards.  But I summoned the soaked remains of my courage and approached him and asked how to get to Westbourne Terrace.  He was absolutely lovely and kind and told me where to find Westbourne.  Turns out, it was the next street over!  Eastbourne Terrace and Westbourne Terrace are parallel streets!  Love you England, but #$%&@!

A short while later my 8 minute journey ended after 30 minutes of walking.  I entered the cozy lobby of the Park Grand hotel in a bedraggled mess, soaked up to my knees and down to my elbows, with every bit of my thankfully waterproof luggage and my hair dripping onto the floor.  There the kind actions of two more strangers made all the difference in my day.  Two lovely receptionists came rushing forward, expressing sympathy and concern.  I really was in a rather pathetic state, so cold and wet that my brain wasn’t working very well.  One of the receptionists made sure I was checked in as fast as humanly possible and the other insisted on taking both of my suitcases and personally leading me all the way to my room.  There were a couple tight turns in the hallways, and I offered to take one of the suitcases, but she was most insistent on taking care of me.  I don’t think I have ever been greeted so warmly, before or since, when arriving at a hotel.

They had me and my luggage deposited into a small but luxuriously decorated hotel room.  All wet clothing was immediately removed and I crawled into bed under the covers at 4pm in the afternoon after making myself a cup of tea from the excellent tea service provided in the room.  It was comprised of an electric tea kettle with top tea choices and actual cream, instead of the coffee pot water and stale tea bag you find in most American hotel rooms.  And there I stayed for more than 2 hours until I had warmed up and regained my spirit of adventure.

I have passed many strangers on the street and have had many receptionists check me into hotels, but I remember almost none of them.  Eight years later, I still remember those three strangers who took the time and effort to provide aid to a foreigner with a more difficult day than they could know.  So let me encourage you to take what might be an inconvenient pause, ask if someone needs help, or make more effort than is required.  You may not know what specific impact it might have in this lifetime but know that kindness is not a futile effort.

P.S. When telling a friend in England about my eventful arrival, she replied, “Congratulations, you’re halfway to being British.  In one conversation, you have complained about the trains and the weather while complimenting the tea service.”