Wheaton’s Way

When I vacation, I always have my best friend Lynne as a travel companion.

We have so much fun together, and I think back to decades of stories (usually involving unnecessary and inconvenient amounts of luggage) and laugh at our endless antics. There is no question that I’m the kind of person who loves company when it comes to taking trips, but in this last week, I’ve been going it alone. Lynne had to return to Cayman while I remained in the UK for longer, and it’s been an interesting social experiment for me. I realised it’s been years since I vacationed solo, and that a good hotel bar is the perfect place to hang out if you feel like chatting with others.

Our go-to hotel in London is the Waldorf Aldwych. It’s right in the heart of theatre-land, is a stone’s-throw from Covent Garden, and has that old-world charm with modern conveniences. The carpeted hallways have a few three-step elevations thrown in here and there, just to make handling your own luggage a bit of an odious task, and rooms in the same category can have completely different layouts. That happens a lot in these older buildings – they aren’t the cookie-cutter spaces you’d expect in a US Marriott or Holiday Inn, which are identical down to the last square inch (apart from a difference in views).

I personally like the surprise each time as I open the door, and at least the Waldorf keeps the square footage fair. I remember a vacation we took years ago, where we’d booked a room that ended up being so small, Lynne and I had to keep apologising as we squeezed past each other to get to the toilet. In the end, we complained to the front desk, who gave us another room in the exact same category and it was double the size. No rhyme or reason.

The Waldorf has a terrific bar – Good Godfrey’s – with bartenders who really know their drinks. And you don’t have to sit at a table staring at your phone, endlessly browsing websites. You can pull up a chair at the bar and chat with the staff, or maybe there will be other guests sitting there happy to strike up a conversation.

On my first night, I met David Linder – an interesting gentleman from South Carolina, who was all about getting international BMX talent to perform in Rock Hill. He spoke enthusiastically about his trip, and pointed out that he’d hurt his little finger (which was heavily protected by bandages) but, on the plus side, he could hold his drinks with pinkie extended, so he fit right into London’s high society.

I told him about the Black Pearl Skate Park in Cayman – once the second largest in the world – and we both mourned the fact that it was closing. He was impressed that such a small island could house such an amazing facility.

On the other side of David was Nadia out of New York, whose specialty was building design. I knew a bit about New York, but it turned out that she was also quite familiar with Miami, and so we discussed the pros and cons of that particular city in some detail. With David getting into the conversation too, we were a nice little trio – strangers passing in the night, but with shared interest in enough topics that the time flew by. I had only expected to sit at the bar for an hour at the most, but was happy to remain in the company of these two.

On another evening, I met Roland – a very well-dressed older gentleman who had led a fascinating life, racing cars at a professional level and piloting his own private jet. “Well, I sang with a band,” I said, almost defensively. Just when I thought I had the Most Interesting Person in the World trophy wrapped up, along came this man who wasn’t a braggart, but had every right to be. He told terrific stories of his escapades, keeping me thoroughly entertained throughout the evening.

I was quite happy to buy a couple of rounds of drinks, but he wouldn’t hear of it. “No, no – I can’t have that,” he said, grabbing the bill from my hand. “I am of the generation and mindset that I would still give up my seat on the train for you.”

I laughed, and politely accepted his offer to pay, but warned him that I was still going to vote in the future, if that was okay. He took it all in very good humour.

For the next few days, when I wasn’t being a barfly, keeping Good Godfrey’s in profit, I was happily walking the streets of London, looking at the shops and the buskers in the main squares. It was lovely to walk – something I don’t do in Cayman much at all. I blame the heat.

I didn’t feel lonely or insecure; the liveliness and bustle of the city swept me up in its energy and I embraced the excitement of it all – right down to the crowds on Oxford Street or shoving my way into a packed Tube carriage.

I realised that it isn’t just about being comfortable travelling solo – it’s where you go. I don’t think I would have felt the same way hiking through Iceland with only scenery to keep me company, but London suited me perfectly.

That being said, don’t worry, Lynne – I’ll be back in Cayman soon. Nothing is a substitute for a great friend and, besides, winter will be here soon…