There's Us

The Beginning...

Ok so it sounds weird when I say it. But I love buildings. My friends always tease me, because honestly, who in the world loves buildings. But I do. I love the curves and the straight edges. I love the way windows are placed. I love the way corners come together. I love the old buildings with intricate carvings on the outside and new buildings with their modern lines and clean outlines. I was a geek for it. If there was a channel all about buildings, I'd watch it 24/7.

I got the chance to go to London when my Structural Design professor, Mr. Franzen, handed me a brochure about studying abroad. He knew I would never have gone for it without his goading. So every day as class let out, he called me over and asked me if I'd applied. I finally did, never thinking for a moment I would get chosen. But I was.

I had a month to plan how I would get over there, a job situation and where I would live. I made the decision fairly quickly that I didn't want to live in any school housing while I was there. I wanted the full London experience. So, I got online one weekend and I figured everything out. My parents bought me the plane ticket, bless their hearts. I found a job at a book shop in the area where I wanted to live. The lady I spoke to on the phone said she was the owner and in her thick British accent, "I been lookin' fer someone for a bloody year!".

The hardest thing to find was housing. But the school's website had classifieds on it where students could advertise things and one of them happened to be rooms for rent. I emailed the first couple that looked promising and after a few responses, I had my living situation handled.

I was off to London a week later.

I was terrified.

Not only was it a strange city I'd never been to, but I was alone. I didn't know anyone. I had a couple hundred bucks to my name at the moment, a cell phone and one big ass suitcase and that was it. I wasn't sure if I was ready for this.

I spent the entire plane ride over psyching myself up for the move. I could do this. I needed to do this. My parents were fabulous people, but not terribly well versed in teaching me how to navigate the world on my own. My mother bawled her eyes out when they dropped me off at the airport and my father kept shoving emergency numbers at me. I needed to do this so I could find my own way in the world without their protection.

But this seemed like way more than I could handle at once. I should've just moved to the next state over. Indiana is nice, I've heard.

Once the plane took off though, there was no turning back. I was off to London, to live with a girl I didn't know while I tried to make it in a city I'd never been to. And I was all of 20 years old.

Turns out navigating London is quite tough when you have no idea where you're going and no map. Even my phone was useless. I finally found the cab stand at the airport and explained to the cab driver where I needed to go. Have I mentioned people in London drive crazy? They do. Or maybe it's just the cab drivers.

I tried to settle my stomach with the Sprite I'd bought in the airport, but the nerves along with this Jack Hole's driving made it tough to stop my stomach from rolling. I was ecstatic when he came to a screeching halt in front of a building that looked like it might have withstood some serious bombing during World War Two.

He turned back to me and said something in such a thick British accent I didn't understand him. I shoved money at him, grabbed my suitcase and got out. Even if I wasn't in the right area, anywhere was safer than being in his death trap of a car.

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I squinted as I looked up at the building. Maybe I'd been too hasty in my initial judgment of it. It wasn't that bad now that I'd had a better look. Sure, the bricks were washed out and chipped away, but the building was actually pretty beautiful. And I loved the red door.