London calling… and we are far too comfortable to answer.
Yes, we’ve arrived in merry ol’ England (two things off the bat: first, I plan for that to be the first and last of my British clichés for this post. Unless something we experience is genuinely, authentically clichéd. Second, please forgive my fondness for generally pointless and neurotic asides using brackets. As you can see, my brackets can at times get out of hand, since this current bracket is already longer than the entire post leading up to the first bracket. (For the grammar/punctuation police among you, I pose this question: if you have one statement or sentence within brackets, it should not end with a period (right?), but if you have multiple sentences within brackets, should the last sentence in the bracket end with a period?)).
Patting ourselves on the back for packing light as we whisked past the unneeded luggage carousel, we nabbed a taxi and left Heathrow airport for, well, our hotel in another terminal of Heathrow airport. When we checked in, we were delighted to find out that we had been randomly selected to be the “Guest of the Day” (nevermind the inherently problematic lack of the plural in our day’s title, which certainly must induce bickering between couples over who truly is the guest of the day). Check out where we’re staying here.
Being “Guest of the day” has some perks! Free use of the spa (pending as of writing), a tray brought to the room with pastries and fruit on it, and complimentary use of the lounge (THAT MEANS FREE BOOZE). This is on top of the room being killer nice and my wearing the hotel robe as I type this, which is already more than enough to make me happy.
I had wanted to go out and hit up a great English pub while here for our short stay in London, and I’ll probably kick myself later if we don’t do that. It’s just so… nice here at our hotel. Let’s see what the rest of the afternoon and evening has in store.