London Underground Falling Down

It's good to have a cell phone again. In this day and age to go without your crackberry for 3.5 weeks deserves some sort of medal. Which I'll accept.

After my trips in and out of doctors offices I had to work on my extract for the showcase. The main reason I flew to London in the first place. Even though I am living back home in NYC I am still in my second year of grad school at City University of London. I've been working on my thesis play which is due Sept 1. Then I will be done... But I had to fly over this June to showcase a scene from this unfinished play.

The school hired a director and well established actors. We had two days of rehearsals/ rewrites before the big shebang. While I think all were very talented in this process there were two things I could have done without.
1. The Tube strike (why of all days did the London underground decide today we will stop working?) - the funny part was after I took a 2 hour bus ride for what should be 30 mins. journey I found out that no... the Northern line (the one I was off) was still working. Seriously London? You come to NY and find out what a subway strike is all about. The last time I had one was on my first day of work temping as a Kennedy's personal assistant. She didn't believe me when I showed up six hours late because I had to walk from Queens to the Upper East Side. So in retrospect the subway standstill on a big day for me... should have expected it.

The second issue I had was the Director had the actors get up and move on their feet for the reading. Not just read the scripts from a stationary position. Generally in a staged reading the actors sit. And the playwrights stage directions are read. I would have preferred that but instead the actors did their own makeshift blocking... flying by the seat of their pants so their interpretation and emotions got in the way of my words. Which isn't a bad thing but it brought some lines that were meant to be subtle to a strange and bold place that made it laughable. If their focus hadn't been make up our own blocking as we go the invited industry could have heard the script the way I intended it... but this is theater right? So if it were a full production it's good to know that's the problems with my script. So I mean while I didn't like it for the showcase I enjoyed it for my rewrites. I can hear some of the problems clearly.... I just didn't need the BBC to hear it...

After the showcase finished which was like a snap of the fingers we went to our local school pub where the only industry guest that followed was there prowling for girls not really interested in our work. So I can't say it was a waste of a trip over because I did discover my next draft in the rehearsal room but didn't forge any success for the future. And I had a tone more adventures right after the showcase from Cornwall to Scotland and everything in between....

Hollie vs. The NHS

So when I was back in NYC I couldn't see a doctor because like most out of work Americans I have no health insurance. I had to just hope my dizzy would stop long enough for me to fly to London. Lucky me... it did! But only a few hours after my arrival it hit me hard.

When I woke up from my 12 hour nap my friend HR called the NHS help line. (That's the UK's health care service hotline) Of course they had to call back because there was a large queue. Several hours later I get a call from a nurse named John. A very lively chap. I told him all my symptoms and he sat for a moment. Then he did something very unexpected... he let out a small laugh and said "I donno. Never heard that before. How unusual." Really John the nurse? You never heard of people getting dizzy after they eat? Then I thought 'what the hell is wrong with me if the health care hotline hasn't heard this one yet.' I would imagine they would have heard of far stranger things than that.

So he classified it as a non-emergency which meant I couldn't go to the ER. I had to first go to a walk in center. He told me I should wait until Monday as well so I could go to one with a GP. The ones open on the weekend just had nurses. And as he didn't know what was wrong with me he felt they wouldn't either. (But not being able to eat... isn't that an emergency?)

This meant two more days of spinning in my head. Well, I spent the day/night in bed after a brief trip to the park where we sat in the sun and worked on our piece for the showcase. After a while we switched from the park only filled with dogs running loose to the Common which was filled with a sea of bodies. We found a place to sit but had to keep moving as the sun went behind the tree and it's shadow grew and grew. In the shade it felt 10 degrees colder and when you're wearing only a Tank and skirt that's not the best feeling in the world. But I seemed fine until we got back inside and I ate dinner.

On Sunday HR made more calls to the NHS. We found a walk in clinic with a GP on staff. It was close to her flat, clean and more importantly... empty. Now by this point my intake of food was... well... lacking because it made me so panicky as well. Which means I was very weak... like anorexic weak I would imagine. I was living on banana's. The only thing that didn't make my head turn. But this Doctor who was not a native English speaker called Dizzy "Izzy". I kept correcting him thinking does he understand what I am saying?

He took my blood pressure, my blood sugar levels, listened to my heart beat, listened to my symptoms. At one point I thought I was going to black out so I pulled out a banana. "Are you eating?" He says and I think.. shit he hasn't listened to a word I said... just nodding his head!. "No" I reply and I saw it in his eyes. He thought I was anorexic. No fool... I love my food that's the problem here... my body is the one stopping me. Okay not helping my case here... So after a few minutes of hardly anything he says everything seems fine. You may be hypoglycemic. But I don't have diabetes or take medication so that's highly unlikely. He went on to say I need to go see my GP. I was like I don't have one that's why I am here. He said I should register with one. I'm on a temp visa can't do it Mr. So HR asked if he could refer me. He said no. So why was I there? Defeated we headed back to her flat where I looked up hypoglycemia and just decided to follow the diet. At least it's something. It mainly consisted of very small portions many times a day. No sugar, alcohol, white flour, or caffeine. All my loves in life.... gone.

HR made me a tiny salad and I ate it slowly. I'm not a natural slow eater. This took time and practice to get right. Normally with two big fork fulls and the thing would have been gone. But I caught on and ate slower than I ever thought possible.

And that was my first weekend in London, having to eat hardly anything and just staying in bed as HR called NHS half a dozen times. But it was clear they weren't helping. So she called her mom, her dad, her brother, her sister-in-law. Everyone said 'is she pregnant?' Apparently that's how they all found out they were... but no. I'm not pregnant. Seven sticks don't lie. Well, they didn't know beyond that.

HR then called her own doctor and asked how could I register. First I had to prove that I lived in her flat too and show my passport. Well... I do have a student visa and I did live here for a year... a year ago. So HR decided that Tues she would take me to the doctors and if they wouldn't see me then we would go to the ER.

But this was a day away... so far the hypoglycemic diet was working. I wasn't dizzy as of late just very very tired and light headed with a massive headache... and fearing the worst... a life with out sugar, caffeine, and alcohol! How could this have happened?!

London Bridges Spinning Round...

I made it to HR's flat with my 50 pound bag and everything in one piece. We had a few hours before her Arch Night started. (An event of various acts her theater company puts on now and then.) So I didn't take a nap. I just opted for some food. She made me a proper British breakfast of beans, toast and eggs. After several bites it hit me... dizziness. Now this had been happening for a week or two. Every time I ate I get dizzy for hours after. So I had to stop - even though I was hungry. Slowly it faded though which was good because it's a shitty feeling to have. Especially when you haven't slept in two days and have a massive headache.

We got showered and dressed so we could meet up with V at the pub. It was a beautiful day still so we sat outside. I got a Pims - which I love and caught up with V and HR. But somewhere around the bottom of the cup I felt the dizzy return. I had to stop drinking. Then I saw someone order a huge burger and I thought maybe my iron is low. I'll have what he's having. So after a short wait I got one and gobbled the meat up. At that point it didn't effect me.

After a bit we went to the venue for the event. V and I waited to the side as HR did her producer thing. It was then that it hit me hard. I turned white and felt like I was going to fall over. So they gave me some coke a cola but that only made it worse. It was official. I had to call it a night. The rough part was I had flown in early just to see this event of HR'S! But defeated by whatever was happening in my body I had HR walk me back to her place. Once my head hit the pillow I was out for 12 hours. I guess I needed it. But unfortunately that wasn't the last of the dizzy.

TAKE OFF - It's LONDON TIME

I'm pretty sure I've beaten my fear of flying. That is until I read online that a plane from Brazil going to France just disappeared over the Atlantic ocean. How does a plane with 200 and some people just disappear? No distress signals. Nothing. Like they evaporated in flight? I can't even think about it. That's probably one of my worst fears.
I have three more flights to go over the next few months and the whole time I'll be thinking "Am I here or did we go down so fast I couldn't even register it and now this is limbo and we are never going to land! Maybe if the foods good I can take it."
Days before this happened I rode calmly and quietly in the back of a black car waiting for the long over night flight to see my old friend Big Ben.

Surprisingly, this time I didn't use the taxi service GT's Mom had on file. The last two times we called them it was some beaten down car with a driver that probably had a few drinks before picking us up. I always thought the car was their home and I wouldn't have been surprised to see bottles of pee rolling around. On the upside we did learn a lot about the mafia and his former homes through out Brooklyn as he speed and swerved. However, this time I was traveling alone and I wanted to reserve my fear for the flight only - not release it all before I even had my luggage checked. So I called Dial 7. Well, actually I booked it online a day before. It was convenient and turned out to be a very good move.

The night of my travel I got a call from the Driver saying he'll be five to ten minutes late. Well, that's not a big deal I thought. I booked it early anyways. So when ten minutes passed and he did arrive I thought okay this is gonna be an easy trip. After he helped me with my huge suitcase and off we went in the plush leather seating. The driver drove calmly, no hint of anything on his breath, no "history" lessons as we drove - just silence. To me that's the best way to go. I'd rather space out than have to make chit chat - Where are you going? Where have you been? And how the Driver thinks that place has it's faults like in their home country.... Blah Blah. Just drive.

The airport had a huge line. I always just walked in but this time it was a wait. Right behind me was some elderly pushy Eastern European couple. Every inch I moved they were right their on top of me. Even putting their suitcase practically on mine wherever I stopped it. Personal space isn't in some vocabularies - is it?

At the check in they said my bag was too heavy so I was that girl opening my luggage to the world so they could all see I packed my period underwear while my ass cracked beamed brightly to the others waiting in line behind me. Probably gritting their teeth thinking who is this arsehole repacking in the airport?
That would be me. Finally I juggled my many tank tops and shoes into my carry on - allowing my luggage to just make it through. There was no way I was going to spend 40 bucks to allow for 10 more pounds of impulsive packing.

The rest of the wait was just dull. I changed my out going message on my cell. Got into a tiff with some British bloke who tried to cut me in line at the little store. You know... the norm.
However, boarding the plane I noticed a middle aged couple - couldn't make out where they were from but they just side swiped the check in process and snuck behind the counter to board. I looked around asking with a puzzled look ' did anyone see that?' I thought 'oh no! Who are these people boarding my plane!' But I'm not a Republican so I didn't go shouting the T word around. Even though if they had done racial profiling they would have fit the bill. That's probably why they tried to just board - so they wouldn't be harassed in the process.

We sat on the plane for a good hour before take off. The captain said we were number 21 in the Que. Apparently JFK was more congested than the highway surrounding it. No surprise there.

Up we went and I was so shocked that I had not even a twinge of fear! The whole ride I was like 'I can do this.' Heck put me on the wing and lets see if I can hold on. I was so confident I even fantasised about going skydiving. Well.... briefly. After what felt like days I looked down to see the shores of Ireland. It was actually the first time I had flown in to the UK that it was a clear day out. The view was breathtaking and I thought - why did I put my camera in the over head?
As much as I enjoyed the view over Ireland and the rest of Britain when it came time to land I was over it. But then we had to literally circle the airport waiting for our slot to land. And our plane circled and circled and circled. It was on a tilt for a good solid 15 mins! I thought I was going to upchuck the weird apple pastry thingy they called breakfast. Actually, I was always very impressed with BA's food but this time it was like every other plane. What happened British Airways? I've only been gone a year. Not only that but this plane had to be a good fifteen to ten years old. The inside was falling apart. It wasn't the usual two story one with the fancy video menu that let you pick any movie and TV show you wanted to watch anytime. No. This was turn on - turn off and most of the flight the entertainment was turned off. Why did I spend so much money for service I could get on American Airlines? Lets just hope the flight back is more the norm.. and not an airbus that can just disappear!

We landed safely and quickly once they got the go ahead. And I'm not gonna lie - some butterflies did come back because that drop was - like I said - quick.
When we were taxing I noticed the other BA planes were being let out by an unfinished terminal and the passengers were boarding buses and I thought shit.
So of course the same was true for us. We waited in the parked plane for what felt like forever but was probably really 10 to 15 mins again. We get out and squeezed onto the bus. By this time it's late morning in London but only 5am in New York and I hadn't slept on the plane. I also had the worlds biggest headache. So I shuffle onto this bus and waited for the rest of the plane to follow. Off we went around the airport. Then at the terminal I raced to immigration. This is where the semi good trip went bad.

In line another bloke just cut me. What is with these British men? Can't stand behind a woman? You have a Queen for christsakes... should be used to it. Of course because of this it meant I got a different immigration officer than I should have. Now no one on the plane gave me the immigration card and it had been a year since I flew international but I vaguely remembered having to fill one out. So I found some and being so sleep deprived couldn't make it all out. I filled in what I knew.
This immigration officer I got wasn't having it though. "Why isn't this filled out right?" I looked at her with vacant eyes and shrugged. She huffed and tried to hand it back to me but changed tactics mid stream. 'Where are you staying?" Again I shrugged "My friends house?" She glared daggers at me. "Where's your return ticket?" She grumbled. "In my email." I say as stone face as possible. This is when she lost it. "What do you mean?You come here unprepared? You're supposed to have all this information ready and waiting!" Then she looked at my passport. "What are you doing here and for how long?" "I'm in my last year of school. I've come to finish." "Your visa is expired! Why didn't you renew this?" I didn't know what to say at first. "It's a three year Visa - it can't be expired." She holds it up. "What does that say?" I read it and of course it ended in '08.' "And what year is it now?" she barked. "09" I said defeated. Then she went off on me some more. Well sorry lady, I really did think it was a three year Visa. 'I'm tired. My head hurts and I have a 50 pound bag waiting for me to drag all over your fine city.' But I don't say any of that. I just whipped out my blackberry and hoped it would turn on. I found the email where HR gave me her address of where I would be staying. The officer wrote it down and then grilled me on how long I would be staying in her country. Only three weeks I pleaded. "You won't be trying to get a job here will you?" Then I knew how a Mexican felt. "No" I say in my now humble expression. I knew tears wouldn't work on this lady. She just wanted to dominate and have her subordinates thankful but not teary eyed - that shows weakness. I apologized a hundred times. She takes it in. There was a good solid moment where I watched her way the options. "I'm gonna give you a temporary Student Visa... this time. But I almost sent you right back on that plane. If you come back you get your stuff sorted!" Once that stamp hit paper I grabbed my passport and ran like the wind before she had time to reconsider.

My luggage came right away and out I went hoping HR would find me. Of course she was on top of it, with an extra tube pass waiting and ready. It was so strange. It hadn't felt like I had ever left London. Granted I didn't remember any of the train lines but it was slowly coming back. As we raced to the trains I thought this is gonna be fun...or at least something to write home about.