"Sorry, I'm American."

Twenty-four hours of travel is enough to drive a person crazy. Then consider a traveler who is young, inexperienced, alone, exhausted, hungry, dragging a 50-lb (exactly!) suitcase, and, most importantly, American. What do you get? Disaster on the tube/taxi/streets of Bloomsbury.

Okay, that's an exaggeration, but my day of traveling cross-country all by my lonesome was extremely taxing, and I am happy it's behind me. London itself is everything I dreamed of--and I've only seen about three streets.

I feel the need to justify every stupid question I ask here, hence my new favorite phrase: "Sorry, I'm American. I have no idea what I'm doing." So far I've gotten about 30 dirty looks and one, "That's all right, love. Those cobblestones would trip anyone!"

Here's to hoping my record gets better in the weeks to come.