London Baby!!

London.  Big.  Enormous.  AND OLD!!

I decided to venture into London right off the plane, on 3 hours of sleep.  The phenomenal Julz had picked me up at the airport, took me to breakfast and in her usual level of enthusiasm agreed to go into town with me.  I had warned her that I wanted to do the touristy shit.  Big Ben.  The London Eye.  Find a phone booth and take a cliche picture in one.  She may not have been smiling as she put up with me, but let's face it, smiling is rare for her to begin with.

I owe her about 8 pints for putting up with me on one thing though.  I wanted to see platform 9 3/4 in King's Cross Station.  We got there and she pointed me in the right direction and then, there was a que.  Of course.  Granted we were there in the morning, so it could have been much worse, but still it was a good 30 minutes before I got to grab on to that trolly and imagine I was finally on my way to the Hogwart's express after receiving my letter of acceptance 20 years too late.  

Turns out they have made the platform into even more of a tourist trap.  Before the remodel apparently the trolley was just there, in the middle of a wall, no fuss, no muss.  Now it has a fancy sign and there is a new "9 3/4 Store" next to it.  They now have a staff photographer out there to take your picture and then you can go inside and buy your overpriced photo  in a ridiculous frame.  Now, they also had a SECOND staff member who put a scarf around your neck (of the chosen house) and then holds the scarf out behind you as the photographer gets ready to click.  

Now, let us paint a little bit more of a picture.  I am surrounded by about 35 avid harry potter fans, from all over, speaking multiple languages and then Julz who is less than enthusiastic about the long ass que we are in.  The photographer was Spanish and talked in a lovely Spanish accent with a little bit of a lisp.  As he got ready to take the picture, the second staff member was holding the scarf out behind the photographee, I would hear, in that lovely Spanish accent, "1, 2, 3 aaaaaaaaaaand scaaaaaaaaarf".  Yeah.  EVERY. DAMN. TIME.

Yes, I got a photo of me running through the enchanted wall.  Yes it was a blast.  Yes, I am still in love with Harry Potter.  However, I will NEVER be able to look at a house scarf without hearing that voice saying (over and over again) "1, 2, 3 aaaaaaaaaaaaaand scaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarf".