Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

It's only been my second weekend here, but I'm willing to speculate that the past 72 hours will prove to be a top-ranked experience 4 1/2 months from now....

I arrived in London Thursday evening, but the most eventful particulars of my visit begin Friday in the posh South Kensington district. A raucous house party at an acquaintance's (that is, someone I became acquainted with upon entering their home) is finally winding down. It is 3 a.m. It is at this time that my bosom buddy, Hannah and I are offered to share a night cap by a bloke who lives nearby. The following is an amalgamated summary of what ensued upon accepting the invitation...

Little did I know, the next day would in fact be more traumatic. Months ago, caught in the throes of 
fanaticism, I purchased a Jamie Lidell concert ticket. Fast forward to this recent past saturday: As I 
had just learned the night before, the Tube stops operating between 1 and 2 a.m., so I had already 
accepted I would have to brave my first hostel experience.
It is nearly 7 p.m. and Hannah's granny has offered to have me and another friend over for dinner. 
Granny lives in Northwood (indicated by the blue star)

My Hostel (shown below) is located in Greenwich (indicated by the green star)

Jamie Lidell is performing at the o2 arena (indicated by the red star)

The Tube station is currently under construction, so what would normally be a 30 minute ride along a 

single station line, became a little bit more like an hour and half series of station changes and the 
dreaded replacement bus service. We finish eating kebab, fruit salad, custard, and of course, tea and 
biscuits and head out the door at a quarter to 11. I am to take the following Route:

[Song: Jamie Lidell, A Little Bit More]


Bus to Wembley Park Station
to Jubilee Line to Baker Station
Change onto Hammersmith to Bow Road
Change onto DLR (light rail, above ground) to arrive in Greenwich
While waiting for the Bus to arrive we entertained ourselves by harassing a railway employee

The bus driver did not know where he was going and got lost...for 30 minutes
By the time I got to the DLR station at 1 a.m., it had stopped running for the night.
I was out of phone credit and had 40 minutes left to check-in to the hostel
I began to run frantically along a quarter-mile stretch of road to try and take a bus and then realized as a 
young, female foreigner I would want a working phone on me so I topped-up (added phone credit).
A cab got me to the hostel, at which time I discovered it is above a bar (hence, the 2 am check-in 
deadline, since that's when the bar closes!) 

I'm told that a bottle of whiskey has just been spilled on their computer and so they are going to bypass 
the usual check-in procedure and hand me my room card. I'm in an 8 person room. I rush up a series of windy, narrow wooden stairs and enter the dark, musty room. Everyone is asleep and I have at least 

three distinct snores to look forward to when I get back. I throw my duffel onto my top bunk and cover itwith my blanket figuring it is much more difficult to kidnap a sleeping person than it is to steal a duffel.

I rush back downstairs to the cab and after some directionaldiscrepancies I arrive at 2:10 a.m.
The o2 Arena is the definition of ginormous. It is comparable to the size of an airport and is in fact a 
multi-purpose events center. Per the advice of some scantily-clad drunkards, I spend 25 minutes lapping 
the grounds, and call my cab driver, Hasan to pick me up convinced I have lost in the race against time. But with 20 minutes to wait until he's to be there anyway, I decide to make one last effort and am 
pointed in the right direction. It is 2:40 when I walk in...

Apparently few to none have even heard of Jamie Lidell, (not a single person I mentioned him to knew 
who he was) and so I am able to stand in front of the stage less than 10 feet from him. 15 minutes later 
his set ends, and as he passes across stage, I grab him and manage to kiss the top of his hand-- it was the least I could to make the whole night worth it.
I sprint back to the cab driver who's already attempted to call me 6 times since I told him to pick me up.
I'm in my top bunk by 4 a.m., awake at 8:30 and vow never to book a single European concert show 
ticket alone again.