Look out London

So we made it to London.

But not without some much un-needed drama at the customs station in the Paris train station.

The last time we went through customers in Great Britian it was just as ugly.  Some dude getting his jollies off ripping Steve and I up one side and down the other – twice.

This morning, at 6 a.m. no less, Emily and I were given the third degree – twice.

First we walked into the customs area. Emily stepped forward before she heard me say, “Don’t go to him, he looks grumpy.” 

As I stood in line I noticed a friendly-looking woman at another window, so I went over to her.

All of sudden I hear Emily calling my name. I smile and wave my hands and walk over to this dude that was spitting invisible fire.

Apparently, he was grilling Emily as to why I went to the other agent. All she could do was say, “I don’t know why.”

Well, I guess I was supposed to stay by her because she’s a minor. I didn’t know.

So, he’s ripping me a new one about how I should have this letter and it’s possible that he may not let us go on to London…blah, blah, blah. 

I tried answering his questions and he wouldn’t listen.

Meanwhile, the nice male agent to the right was poking fun of the one berating me by shaking his finger at me in the naughty gesture – while I was being told that my attitude sucked!

Eventually, a person stepped into the enclosed security area, turned off the mic and proceeded to talk to both of the agents. 

I was so mad at the dude by this point, I was tearing  up. 

I was imaging the supervisors telling bad ass to be nice. I was also imagining a customs agent without security glass and my two fingers poking into his eyes. 

Eventually we made it through customs. We arrived in London and walked all over the area near Big Ben, the London Eye and Buckingham Palace. I am bushed.

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