Day 1: The Victoria LINE and The Victoria STATION are not the Same Thing

LAX --> LHR

London. I had arrived. The Virgin Atlantic flight, was as promised, effortless and pleasant. Customs and immigration on the other hand, were not. Standing in line with four other flights that had just arrived from Shanghai, Delhi, Canada and somewhere in North Africa, I was in for a tedious start to journey’s end. After standing in line for nearly and hour and a half, I was 'stamped' through immigration in 6 seconds, nevertheless, London Heathrow, here I was and I was excited. With over-zealous enthusiasm to have finally crossed the Atlantic after months of planning, I grabbed my suitcase, grateful that it arrived, and made way for familiar red and white 

Islington

signs that read “UNDERGROUND.” Fully equipped with what I thought was a flawlessly drafted google/London underground research of maps and directions I bought a month-long “Oyster Card,” hopped the Picadilly Line and set course for Victoria Station. Pleased with myself for such foresight and planning, I settled into "The London Experience." What could go wrong? I had it all planned out, right? Well, let’s just say things didn’t turn out as precisely as I expected them to. Derailed by station construction and forced off the line, I herded my way with other weary travelers onto a bus that took us to another station where we rejoined the subway. (Glitch #1). But. . .these stations didn’t have elevators or working escalators! (Glitch #2) What?! How was I supposed to lift all my bags up these stairs??  Thankfully, the legend of British manners is not limited to myth alone and many a heroic Englishman came to my rescue. (side note: British accents: swoon, Well Dressed men with British accents: double swoon, Well dressed men with British accents who come to your rescue: Mind the Gap swoon!) Ok, back on track. I pressed on unruffled by glitch #1 and #2 and once again consulted my flawlessly drafted print-out of directions. Picadilly to the District Line, exit Victoria Station, walk about 3 blocks and arrive at the front door of the “Doctor in the House", all in enough time to call home, unpack, wash up and go out for dinner. An hour tops. Four hours (!) later I arrived at my lodging in Islington. I won’t bore you with the painful details of walking around the streets of downtown London with the sun setting fast (Glitch #3) and the rain sprinkling harder (Glitch #4), or how finding a taxi on a Saturday night in the middle of a bustling restaurant and theater district was an epic feat (Glitch#5), I’ll just tell you I made it (after surviving Glitches #6-14).

Doctor in the House

The street where I live

“Did you get lost?”

“Well I thought I had the directions perfectly mapped out? I’m not sure what I did wrong” I said pulling out my trusty sheet.

“Oh, dear. Well, the Victoria line and the Victoria station are not the same thing. They're miles apart. You would have been here hours ago if you had known that.”

Of course they're not the same! Duh. Ok, note to self: there are going to be a lot of things on this trip called 'Victoria' try and keep 'em straight.
Lesson learned. Just show me to the bed.