Day 1 -
Made it to London safe and sound.  Flight was a bit bumpy and I may have slept a total of 1 hour but I got to watch 2 movies: Neighbors and Maleficent.  Both good.  I sat next to a nice but quirky lady on the way over.. She was a scientist and going to London for a couple weeks for research.  That's all I could get out of her.
When we arrived I was a bit groggy but a nice Brit named Dimitri helped me reach my bag from the overhead compartment so I didn't crush myself or any small children around me.  We chatted up until Immigration where we had to part our separate ways but he told me he had just come from North Carolina and wished he was still there.  ...I hear ya, Dimitri.  NC is the bomb.com

Once I passed through Immigration (a simple stamp and finger print scan by a not-so-smiley British gal) and customs (literally I walked until an archway, I don't know how that's even a legal system), I pushed my overly stuffed luggage cart through the exit route and found my chauffeur holding a sign that read "Miss Holly Selvitella".  He was probably the most British old man I have ever met - could hardly understand a word he was saying - but he was super nice.  I am telling you right now, I could have sworn it was the butler from 'The Dark Knight'.  Just even more British.  He told me how he lived in the city with his wife and has never been out of town other than his yearly cruises to the Caribbean where he ports out of Miami (which he hates).  He told me all about the sights and how I should ask for an elephant at Harrods because they could literally get me one if I wanted it.  (Oh by the way, I forgot to mention, I was immediately reminded where I was when he hopped into [my sense of] the passenger side to drive the car.  Still trying to get used to that)

He dropped me off at my flat, 200 Sloane Street, and went on his way.  Since it was so early, my flat was of course not ready.  All I wanted was a shower but that just wasn't an option.  At least I got to use the 'toilet'.  Yes, don't ask if you can use the 'restroom', 'bathroom', or 'ladies room'.  They WILL look at you funny.  I washed my face and brushed my teeth with my finger to freshen up a bit, dropped my bags at the reception, and started exploring.  Since I felt so open to change, I decided to make my first stop Starbucks.

After I got my fix of free wi-fi to check Facebook, Instagram, and email (and message with Kho and Val who were STILL AWAKE at 3am home time), I headed out to actually look around my new temp city.  I found the iconic telephone booths, walked through Hyde Park and the gardens, located a grocery store, and learned very quickly that I needed to start looking the opposite way when crossing the street.  Some very close calls... the buses do not stop.

Then... I went to Harrods.  [Insert God-like "ahhh" and heavenly lighting here]
The place is literally insane. Everything you can possibly imagine and more is there.  And when you thought you saw everything, you're wrong.  There are pyramids of dates. Yes, like the fruit.  It is that selective and specific.  I am still trying to figure out how they fit a museum, an Egyptian escalator, women's designer fashion, a toy kingdom, a Christmas-only department, bakery, cake shop, tea cafes, sushi bar, shoe heaven, and 106 more things in one building.

After I started to feel the jet lag attack, I walked back to Sloane St and my flat was finally ready.  It's small, but works just fine for me.  Only 30 minutes into unpacking I heard my doorbell.  The front desk manager was standing at my door with a package.  Spence sent me flowers.. queue the waterworks.  Nicest thing ever, made me cry and miss home, but then I was good.  Got back to unpacking and decorating my coffee table with a giant American flag and went grocery shopping.  twice.

Sleeping was tricky.  There are more custom, fancy sports cars on this street than I have seen collectively in my entire life.  Lambos, Ferraris, Bentleys, you name it.  They are here, on my street, and they are platinum gold.  The problem with the fancy sports cars is that they tend to drag race, sort of, late at night.  Gets a little loud seeing that my bedroom window is parallel to the fictional drag strip.  I finally got to sleep with visions of business cards and promo products dancing in my head, awaiting for my first day of work in the new city.