Ever have one of those mornings where the alarm doesn’t wake you up or you somehow shut it off in your sleep without knowing?  Those are super fun.  You know what makes those days better?  Tight schedule constraints around international flights.

That morning I woke up to a “Brad!  What time is it!” accompanied by a shove from my lovely wife.  It was 4:15am.  That’s an important note because our scheduled ride to Charles De Gaulle was at 4:25am.  When I looked at my phone to check the alarm status, I noticed the text from the driver, he was early and parked out front.  Awesome.

We woke the girls.  They finished packing.  Chelle and I each grabbed a super fast shower as we had fallen into bed the night before without one after a long hot day walking Paris and packing up for our early departure.  Fortunately we were mostly packed, which made the story to the driver about the slow, small, ancient elevator in the building being to blame for our tardiness only a half-lie.  Miraculously we were loaded up and driving away from the still dark Eiffel Tower by 4:35am.

The 45 minute ride to the airport was free of traffic and gave us all a minute to let the adrenaline subside and rejoice that we somehow didn’t forget anything.  Or get to write the apology note for the Nespresso machine I rendered inoperable, but things happen.

We arrived at Charles De Gaulle in time to check our bags and grab some questionable food before our 7:25am flight to London.  Equipped with only our carry on bags we boarded the flight.

So, full disclosure, this was a less than ideal start to any day, but it was going to make this particular day a true exercise in family resilience and dedication.  The early departure from Paris was scheduled with the intent of arriving at London Heathrow at 7:45am, taking advantage of the time difference, and promptly leaving Heathrow to spend the day touring London before our 4:40pm departure on a direct flight back to home in Las Vegas.  Even with a less abrupt start to the day, this was recognized as a highly ambitious and questionable decision.  But, if you’ve been reading this blog, you recognize that this was probably to be expected.

We landed at Heathrow on time, cleared customs without any trouble, and headed for the Heathrow Express to get downtown.  Everything went pretty smoothly and on the Express, Chelle and I decided that he worst was behind us and we were going to have a great day.  That’s funny.

The cab from Paddington Station took us Buckingham Palace.  We knew we would miss the changing of the guard, but it was okay.  We had managed to get tickets months ago through the Royal Collection Trust for a tour through Buckingham Palace for 9:45.  We arrived a few minutes early, but the tour groups were running behind due to a glitch, so we were feeling pretty confident.  Afterall, we had no other scheduled plans for the day.

The tour was amazing.  Seeing the amount of history and locations depicted in pictures dating back centuries was humbling.  While I’ve never been particularly enamored with the British Royalty (might have something to do with my family coming to the Colonies on the Mayflower), there was definitely something to be said for being there in person.  It was easy to imagine what the rooms looked like full of Lords and Ladies, dignitaries, Heads of State, ringing with formality and ceremony.  Everything from the state rooms, thrones, ballroom, and courtyard where the motorcades are assembled were part of the tour.

While we were touring we learned about the flag system used to indicate whether or not the Queen was present, and were sad to learn that she wasn’t there. Obviously she had forgotten that we were visiting.  Or so we thought.  Later in the day we learned that she had indeed been there.  Fortunately we had already completed the tour and our self-guided walk through the gardens or we would have demanded to see her (and likely been shown an up close tour of the Tower of London).

After the tour, our plan had been to walk through parts of central London to see Big Ben, the London Eye, and walk along the Thames.  But that fell apart rather quickly.  As we walked through The Birdcage we realized that there was no traffic.  At all.  No cars.  No trucks.

Approaching the statue of Churchill on Parliament Street we noticed signs everywhere for the London 10k – which was currently underway.  The street was blocked.  The length of it.  We couldn’t cross and were effectively blocked from reaching the Thames.  So, we walked parallel to the route all the way to Trafalgar Square.  Then we realized it was lunchtime, and we were starving.  Many places were closed due to the race and lack of traffic.

We started looking for a cab, but again, no traffic.  We were forced to walk quite a few blocks until we found flowing traffic and could hail a cab.  All told, we walked roughly 6 miles from the time we left the tour at Buckingham.  A quick cab ride to Paddington, then back to Heathrow on the Express, through security, and a quick lunch in Heathrow Terminal 5.

When we boarded the flight for the 11 hour journey home, we had already been up for 13 hours and travelled a long way.  We were exhausted.  But so happy.  The trip had been a whirlwind and one we already knew we would likely never have the chance to repeat.  It was the longest continuous period of time I had ever spent with my family without having to go to work.  For that I will forever be thankful.

Looking back on the journey, the money spent, the miles traveled, and the time together, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Starting July 21st at 4:15am in Paris and ending at 7:20pm in Las Vegas,  we called it done.  In the spirit of Phil Keoghan: 17 days, 4 countries, over 14,000 miles, and countless memories.

My only question is: where next?