The end result of all this waiting was that I only had thirty minutes to get to my flight to London. The woman sitting across from me and her college-aged daughter were trying to make the same flight, so we decided to rush around together. The flight attendant and the agent meeting the flight told us that we needed to go to Terminal One to catch our Virgin Atlantic flight. So, we rushed over there. If you've ever been to JFK, you know that getting from one terminal to another is very annoying as you have to exit the airport in order to move between terminals. It takes a lot of time when you're trying to make a connection. When we got to Terminal One, they told us that we had the wrong Terminal and need to go to Terminal Four. More rushing (all of this with a rather heavy pack on my back). By this time, we're all generally freaking out at the idea of not making the flight. So we run to security check point for the terminal, only to be turned away because we don't have Virgin Atlantic boarding passes.

You might wonder why we didn't have Virgin Atlantic boarding passes. We didn't have them because the Delta agents had told each of us that we would be given one in New York. So, we go talk to Virgin Atlantic people, and come to find out that we should have been given them in Atlanta and cannot get on our flight because we don't have them. This is the point where I really panicked. I mean, here I am, all alone, my first international flight - and I can't get on the plane. Absolute disaster!

Luckily for me, the VA agent was a super wonderful goddess of flight booking. We were all booked standby on the next flight, which by this time was only an hour later. I thought I was never going to leave NYC, but to my ecstatic relief my name and all the other Atlanta people's names were called for the flight. Even better, we were upgraded. I didn't get the super-posh fully recumbent seating of first class, but I did get upper-class roomy seating. And, as it turned out, my seat was bulkhead seat with as much leg room as I wanted. I have never felt more relief in my life.

The flight attendants were the most beautiful people I had seen, the women with their hair in tightly done buns and wearing red tailored suits and the men in gray suits with lavender vests. Of course, this might have been due to my extreme gratitude at even being on the plane in first place. However, I must say the service was impeccable and did much to soothe my raw nerves. Sadly, my enjoyment of the flight was marred by the rather odd woman sitting next to me, who chose to be irritated by everything. I think I was happy enough for the both of us. I slept a little, but felt like I slept even less than that. Ahh . . . well, that's the way it goes I suppose.

The views of England as I approached were lovely. I saw rolling green countryside, interrupted now and then by the white of the chalk underneath. As we approached London, I got a lovely tour of the sights - the London Eye, Big Ben, Tower Bridge - from a bird's eye view.

My first ever trip through customs was very confusing but relatively painless. I was, however, a little surprised to hear my name called over the loudspeaker. My luggage had not made it onto my flight and would arrive later that day. This minor setback turned out to be an advantage as this way my fairly heavy suitcase would be delivered to me rather than my lugging it around on the Tube. The absence of the suitcase was even more appreciated after I discovered that it was actually quite hot in London the day I arrived. Now mind you, there wasn't any humidity, but the sun was fairly strong that day. So much for that rainy London weather.

I took the underground very successfully to St. Pancreas Station and found the Lutheran Centre with little trouble. My room is very small, but clean and airy. The folks at the center are very friendly, and they're having a barbecue Friday so I will have a chance to meet people. I will send out pictures once I can load them onto my computer - still missing that cord. I spent most of the remaining day trying to stay awake. Jetlag pretty much sucks ass - all you want to do is sleep and the only thing you can't do is sleep.

see, mom, I'm still alive

my bed and desk, notice the big windows I get since I'm on the top floor

closet and inconvenient nightstand

my lovely orange high ceiling; seriously though, the high ceiling makes the small room much more comfortable

the view to the left of me

the view down below

I went out and have my first meal in London at a rather stuffy (read the English don't seem to understand how to ventilate during warm weather) pub called Skinner's Arms on Hastings Street. I had veggie burger that was quite good, although my jetlagged stomach couldn't really tolerate much food at this point. I made it through the day and got some rest that night.

Coming soon in the next installment: Lisa visits that most English of English landmarks, Trafalgar Square, and supplicates the British Library for a Reader's Card. Will she get caught up in the Trafalgar tourist hordes? Will the BL deem her worthy to breathe their air and worship their collections? The drama continues.