"What is the purpose of your visit?"
Steeling myself for the suspicious look and potential interrogation, I replied, "I'm here for the royal wedding."
The customs agent smiled and stamped my passport. Hmm, very different reaction to the one I received when I went to New York for Jerramy Fine's book signing.
Obviously in this instance, customs wasn't going to ask me what the resolution to William and Kate's particular situation would be. This agent wasn't chewing gum either, nor did she have a moustache.
So I'd arrived in London. What began as a crazy idea was now a reality. What on earth was I thinking? Jet-lagged and unfamiliar with my surroundings I regrouped for a moment before braving the underground. I had been dreading this part. Back home a map filled with a labyrinth of multicolored tube lines had filled me with anxiety. I had gotten lost on the New York subway system, how would I ever manage this one?
But I had to get to my hotel. So I asked a ticket agent what the easiest way to get to Victoria station was. As he gave me directions he asked where I was from.
"Canada! One of my relatives is a government minister" he said proudly, writing the surname of his kin on the back of a receipt for me. Presumably so I could share in his pride when I returned home. I stuffed the paper into my purse, took a deep breath and headed for the gates.
There was no way of knowing where I would end up.
© Marilyn Braun 2011
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