I See London, I See France

London, England Part 8

We walk into a bar.

"Are you sure this is it?" she asks, scanning the room. There are a few groups of travelers eating runny eggs. Flags from different countries line the wall.

I drop my backpack on the ground with an "AHHH" and march up to the desk. "Hi," I say with extra cheer. "We're checking in."

"Check-in is at foh," the not-so-helpful, pink-haired twentysomething at the registration desk tells us.

Foh? "Four?"

She nods.

"But it's only ten," I say.

She nods again. "Right."

"What are we supposed to do for six hours?" I ask. My cheer has disappeared. I'm tired. And wet. I need a shower.

"Dunno."

"Will you text us if our room becomes available early?"

"Sure," she says.

"Give her your cell," I instruct Leela.

The woman pretends to write it down. I don't think we're going to be hearing from her.

"I'm too tired to walk around," I say. My eyes are heavy. I'm starting to get dizzy. I need sleep. My body is confused.

"I have to get stuff anyway," Leela says. "Who knows when my bag is coming."

"All right," I say. I turn back to the woman at the desk. "Can I leave my bag here?"

"You could, but it might be safest in your room."

"But I don't have a room yet."

She nods. "Right. Should be fine. Might be fine. I don't know."

"Just leave it," Leela says. "It's locked, right?"

"Yeah." But I don't want to lose mine, too. "I guess I can take it with me. We won't go too far."

"Can we eat?" Leela asks. She turns back to the woman at the desk. "Can you recommend a place for brunch?"

She looks at us blankly. "Brunch? No. But you can eat here."

"I don't think I want to eat here," Leela says under her breath. "Any place else? What's really good?"

"Freya's is all right, and it's just down the road," she says.

"And what about shopping? I need shampoo and stuff. My luggage got left in America."

"There's a Boots on King's Road," she says. "And an Haiche-an-em."

"What?" I ask.

"Haiche-an-em," she repeats.

"H&M?" Leela asks.

She looks at us like we're morons. "Yeah. Off you go."

Okay. I think we were dismissed. "We need to find an ATM too," I tell Leela. "I only have twenty pounds."

"Let's just eat and then figure it out. I'm starving."

At the restaurant, we both order porridge because we think it sounds British, and coffees, which arrive in super tiny cups and are so not going to do the trick.

"Can I have another one of these, please?" I ask our waiter. "Thanks."

"Should we call our parents?" Leela asks.

"It's like five in the morning at home," I say.

"My dad told me to call as soon as I could," she says. "I don't want him to wake up and get nervous that my plane crashed."