Liverpudlians, Big Cats and Canceled Trains

During my weekend in London, my best friend and I took a day trip to Liverpool to visit my friend, Ryan, who was an exchange student at U of I last semester.

The first night, we only saw the bottoms of bottles, glasses and a few pitchers. But the next day, we visited Albert Dock and The Beatles Museum. Granted, I was hungover all day and was trying not to vomit on John, Paul, George and Ringo.

I really enjoyed Liverpool, but I suppose it has something to do with Ryan’s adorable puppy dog eyes and British accent. I’m not quite sure how he put up with me interrupting him every two minutes to repeat British things like, “I reckon,” or “cheers”. But then again, I’m not quite sure how most people put up with me, anyways.

After Liverpool, it was time to make my way back to Barcelona, which was a mess of buses, trains and planes.

It was 3:30 am on Monday and I was standing at a bus stop in London, beginning my arduous journey to the airport, when I was suddenly approached by a rather large cat. I realized it wasn’t a cat, but actually a fox. He proceeded to prance around me, and I stood still because I was not versed in man-fox interactions. Like, do they bite? Are they territorial? I just don’t have the time for rabies, so I made no sudden movements until my bus came.

I arrived at the train station to see that all of the trains to the airport were canceled for the next hour. After about five minutes of panic, I decided to roll with the punches. The only place to sit at the train station was an empty information booth, so I took a seat and pretended I worked there. It was all rather sadistic, as people would come up to me with hope in their eyes to ask about train information, and I would crush their spirits by telling them I don’t have a clue about the trains.

I made it safely home to Barcelona, but learned a very important lesson that day: If you’re out and about in a foreign city at 3 am to catch a flight, you should probably call your mother once you arrive at your destination.

I checked my phone around 4 pm that day to find about 17 missed calls and texts from my mother asking where I was and if I was alright. As well as emails. On all my email accounts. So for next time, note to self: tell Mama Kulka that I have not been taken.

Albert Dock, romantic don't you think?

Albert Dock, romantic don’t you think?

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