GUINNESS in England (London)

MISSION: ACCOMPLISHED
DATE: MARCH 15, 2005
PLACE: THE BETSEY TROTWOOD, LONDON, ENGLAND

I had no idea how much my life would change when I accepted my friend Toby’s offer to try a sip of his Guinness as we munched pad thai at The Betsey Trotwood in London, England.

Toby was living in London for awhile, and my friend Kristen and I decided to visit him and check out a few other European countries while we were there. This was my first trip abroad and we pretty much winged the whole thing, setting the tone for future international adventures.

After I finally found Toby’s apartment (a bit of challenge given that I had no way to reach him until I showed up on his restricted-entry doorstep, and his building was down a rather hidden alley), I spent a couple of days wandering the city. London is not one of my favorite cities; it’s drab and cold. I’m far from a history buff, so while the museums around Trafalgar Square had free entry, I was sort of bored. International adventures are more fun when you aren’t 100% positive every person you meet speaks English.

One novice mistake I made was buying a ticket for a Dali exhibit, which I actually enjoyed — but I didn’t realize that every country on Earth seems to have a Dali exhibit. I will also admit to stopping at a McDonalds, although only because I was very hungry and there was nothing else open in the immediate vicinity.

My first Guinness happened entirely by accident. I was not a big beer drinker, but I was still willing to try any beer once, so I happily tried a sip of Toby’s “meal in a glass.” Here’s a dirty little secret: I did not really like that first sip, but I ordered a pint of it anyway, and I proceeded to have a couple more later that week less because I loved Guinness and more because it was one of the few beers I knew by name. Twice, a bartender commented that they were impressed with a young female ordered a Guinness, and I have to admit that was a large part of its initial appeal for me. (Quickly, though, I developed a genuine appreciation for its taste.)

My last night in London, Kristen and I were headed for Athens, Greece and discovered at the last minute that the Tube didn’t run late enough to take us to the airport. (Fail, Tube!) So, we arranged for an all-too-expensive cab to pick us up at 2am. Much earlier that evening, I threw in a load of laundry and went across town for what I expected to be a quick beer with another friend.

Now, I am navigationally inept. I get lost all the time. I can usually plan ahead for this and find a way to compensate without making a total ass of myself… but not this time. “One beer” turned into a few, and it was getting late, so I had to start making me way back to Toby’s place. My friend offered to walk me back, but I insisted that I was fine. I was not fine; I continually read maps wrong and walked in the wrong direction, so it took me over three hours to make it back, and the cab was already there waiting for me.

I ran inside to pack my bag, only to realize — to my horror — that every article of clothing I had was still in the washing machine, sopping wet. I had no choice but to throw the entire load of sopping wet clothes into my suitcase (ruining the books I had packed) and drag it (dripping!) up to the cab.

My wet clothes journey continues in Brussels and Athens…

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Tagged as: betsey trotwood, england, london