England Day 4
England Day Four
Breakfast was included in our stay, and that's where today's saga began. Maybe it should start with who spends more time on their hair. Can I get some mirror time? My unruly mop and I sat down to pork sausages, a towering stack of pancakes, and tiny 4-ounce glasses of water. The perpetual fight against dehydration raged on as I started knocking those glasses back like shots. They had a fancy coffee machine, and thanks to Spotify commercials, I knew how Europeans drink coffee: cappuccino in the morning, macchiato all day, and espresso after meals. I tackled the coffee machine, earning a cappuccino that only slightly singed my mouth. My mother-in-law asked for American coffee, and the server replied, "Yes, we have weak coffee." We all chuckled over the light roast.
We had to catch the tour bus by 8 a.m., or risk abandonment. Unlikely, since we prepaid, but my wife insisted we power-walk anyway. I hustled like I was on an airport moving walkway, but her concern lingered. We made it just in time. Wait, wrong bus—now we made it.
The first stop was Windsor Palace, where the Queen sometimes resides. At least 74% of my brain believed she’d been in that building. Our guide donned a cowboy hat with a feather, announcing, "I'm about to put on my funny hat. Please, don't laugh at me." Points for self-awareness. Inside Windsor, my radar instantly locked onto the dawdlers—the ones destined to stop randomly in hallways, stairwells, and doorways. Flank left! We admired the obligatory sights and ventured to the gardens. Closed. Why? Someone "watered the plants." Yes, an American had a Boston Pee Party. We caught the changing of the guard, which at first resembled dudes loitering. Oh, it hadn’t started yet. Little Ms. Hallway-Blocker reappeared, so we flanked right. Finally, it began.
A quick group survey: if you exit through one door and receive no instructions, do you return through the same door? Wrong. We got scolded and redirected to a different entrance where we were handed "lunch." Imagine wet cucumbers, cheese on stained bread, and a bag of crisps. The guide assured us Bath had lovely eateries. Thank goodness.
We reached Bath, where museums, boozy ice cream, and pubs abounded. My vibe entirely. "You have an hour and a half." Lunch first? Nope, Roman baths. The water was toxic and untreated—relatable, as I just got my pool chemicals balanced. I watched people stick their hands in the gross water and whispered disease names while spritzing hand sanitizer. After queuing and touring, an hour and fifteen minutes evaporated. Sulking back to the bus, we vowed: no more bus tours. I peeled the cheese off my "sandwich" and whispered, "There's no place like (literally any) pub." Nothing happened.
En route to our final stop, we saw a film crew. No idea what movie, but you can assume I'm now famous. At Stonehenge, I searched for aliens. Where were they? Wasn’t this their thing? We checked out the stones and listened to the audio tour. Which button summoned aliens? Asking for a friend. Starving, we hit the Stonehenge café. What is steak pie? What is a sausage roll? Corn dog adjacent? Fingers crossed. They only had bitters. I whispered, "Is that beer?" to no one in particular and decided to risk it. My meal was a mix of meat pastries, pseudo-beer, and a giant cookie. I bought mead as a souvenir because of the term "honeymoon"—a month’s supply of mead provided by in-laws. I’m still waiting for mine.
Hangry, we sprinted to Dishoom, a top Indian restaurant. A 45-minute wait loomed, so I killed time with Kingfisher beer. Untappd, is there an India badge? After a giant bottle—possibly a forty—we were still waiting. I switched to a coconut milk mojito and instantly regretted it. Not mad, though, as the bartender complimented my "You had me at barrel-aged" shirt. Cool guy. When we checked in, they claimed our pager was defective. Really? You're just going to toss it back in the bin, aren’t you? After three complaints, they figured we’d left. Plot holes aside, the food was phenomenal—worthy of repeat visits. Free ice cream appeared—mango, pistachio, or "combo." The combo turned out to be caramel. Much better than wet cucumbers and cheese.
