Brooks Mencke’s Monthly London Update – Part 1
Here it is, Leadership Junior Brooks Mencke has taken the time to update us on her travels and experiences during her first month in London. Enjoy her post written below!
Hello and welcome to my friends, family, leadership clan, and all other guests who may not know me, but are willing to read about my adventures abroad. My name is Brooks Mencke and I am a Junior Marketing major, PR/Journalism minor in the Leadership Development Honors Program. I am studying in London, England this semester at the University of Westminster along with my best friend and fellow Leadership Junior Belle Plateroti. I hope you enjoy the stories I have to tell about my time here so far, welcome and enjoy!
Well, it’s official. I have been in London for a month now! And, to commemorate this joyous occasion, I wanted to share with everyone a bit about my journey thus far. So, as Maria in Sound of Music says, or sings rather, “let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.”
I arrived at Heathrow Airport on Saturday, September 13th emotionally and physically exhausted, yet surprisingly wide-eyed. After flying from Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport to Detroit (hi Micaela), and then taking a 7 hour red-eye from there to London, I was more than happy to have finally reached the land of the Brits. Upon arrival, I waited for roughly an hour in line, or queue as they say here, at border control. Noticeably, the only highlight of this part of the trip was getting a super cool stamp on my passport.
So, with my approved identification I entered the country, grabbed my bag at the carousel, and was on my way. I should note here that much to my mother’s surprise, I was able to fit everything I needed from home for three months abroad into one checked suitcase, a backpack, and a carry-on. Being a notorious over-packer, I am still amazed as to how I pulled this off. Thus, with my three bags accounted for, it was time to make my way into the city. My first feat was to navigate my way from Heathrow to the East End of London and move into my flat. A task I thought I was well prepared for, but as I have learned: things don’t always go according to plan.
Having downloaded the trusted “Citymapper” app to my phone before leaving the States, I knew exactly which train to take where. And, after glancing at my route incessantly prior to departure to double, triple and quadruple check where to go, I was confident at this point that I knew exactly what to do. So, bags in hand, I easily made my way to the London Underground Station directly below the terminal. After purchasing my ticket at a kiosk, I simply hopped on the Piccadilly line train heading to King’s Cross where I would have to transfer lines. The ride was pleasant and before I knew it, I arrived at the station. Having memorized my next move, I hopped off the train and began to look for signs directing me to the Northern line. Following the crowd, I made my way through the station and my face lit up when I saw above me the large sign reading “Northern line.” I quickened my pace, excited to have found it so efficiently. But, once I got closer, I stumbled upon two massive iron gates locked tight blocking the entrance to the line. Sheer panic rushed through me.
I blankly observed how the countless other passengers were reacting. Many wore the same confused look I had on, but swiftly recovering one after the other they disappeared back into the crowd of people hurriedly making their way to other train platforms. Still standing there dumbfounded, a small sign placed in front of the gate caught my eye. I rushed over, scanned it quickly, and it confirmed my fear. There would be “No Service” on the Northern line that day. My heart sank into my stomach. In this very moment, it hit me that I was alone in a big city and I had no idea where to go.
My first thought- What in the world do I do now? My second thought- Google it.
I whipped out my iPhone faster than ever before. I was thankful for my international data plan and ready to make use of it. But, appearing on the upper left hand side of my screen, the dreaded phrase “No Service” appeared. The last two words I wanted to see. Again.
At a loss, I tried stopping a few men and women to see if they knew how to get to Old Street, the station closest to my flat. Each one shook their head and indicated the Northern line was the only train to stop there. Exasperated, I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself.
I stared into the hustle and bustle of the station and located the exit sign. The solution had finally come to me. I was in England, not some other planet. And, in England, they have other modes of transportation, namely taxis. I wanted to laugh at myself for being so narrow-minded. I had gotten so wrapped up in sticking to my plan that I failed to use other resources available to me. A lesson I was glad to have learned so quickly. I made my way out of King’s Cross, hopped into a taxi, and directed the driver toward my flat. Right then and there I knew I would learn to expect the unexpected more than ever before this semester, and that this whole experience was going to be one wild ride.
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