London Calling
“Hi, Jennifer. It’s Mom and Dad. We just wanted to say that we hope you’re having a good night and having fun wherever you are. Call us when you get in. Love you, bye!”
Beep! The answering machine in the dorm room clicked off.
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I’ve heard these messages on my answering machines ever since I went away to college. Morning and nightly calls are something my parents do like breathing; it’s just natural for them. They don’t seem to realize it, but I am an adult.
Yes, I may look different. I read large print and walk with a white cane because I’m visually impaired. But honestly, I still have the same feelings as the next person. I am a normal human being just like you. I still like movies (without subtitles), music, books, laughing with friends, and of course, traveling.
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Prior to the summer of 2001, I hadn’t spent any time traveling unchaperoned. I had hardly ever been unchaperoned up to this point except in college in Boston. So even though I had my own place in my hometown of Norman, Oklahoma, going back there was depressing after the independence I’d had in Boston.
All that changed in March of 2001 when Anna, a friend and former Boston University roommate, suggested a trip to Washington D.C. Anna mentioned going there, but before I could agree, our plans had changed.
Anna and I had been listening to the BBC online from our respective homes in New York and Oklahoma when we had this possibly insane idea that we were going to help the tourist industry in England after their crisis with foot and mouth disease. In 2001, after the foot and mouth scare due to meat that was contaminated, Prime Minister Tony Blair addressed his country. In his speech, he said something along the lines of: “What the tourist industry needs now is tourists.” So Anna and I decided to go to London and play tourist.
The largest problem we faced was how to get our parents on board with the idea of Anna and me going across the pond together for a few weeks. Could we even get through to my parents especially? I had my doubts.
I heard many excuses from my parents. “London is so far away!” from my mom, and “What happened to Washington D.C.? It’s a great city with lots of museums and a clean Metro. I’ve been there,” from my dad.
However, we prevailed after multiple discussions and lots of planning. For example, Anna, who is good at math, suggested we split the cost of everything. Great idea, I thought! She got our hotel arrangements set up after some research. I set up the flights to London’s Heathrow Airport and back to New York. She and I both picked up guide books as reference in our designated cities. All spring, we studied and bookmarked them. We talked on the phone and email about plans and ideas of things to do.
Adventure awaited in and around London for young Anna and me. July of 2001 could not arrive fast enough!
When the travel day finally arrived in late July, Anna and I were so excited. I had an extra travel day to get from Oklahoma City to NYC, but I didn’t mind. At the airport in OKC, my parents fretted over me. They told me to call when I got to Anna’s apartment and again when we got settled into our hotel in London. Neither Anna nor I had a cell phone back then, so we planned to use the hotel phone and a phone card to call home from London. We were ready!
While we saw many of the usual tourist attractions on that trip, some experiences stood out more than others.
One morning near the end of our trip, we took the London Underground to the city of Westminster. By this time, Anna and I were doing well with the Tube, as the Underground is also known. A funny thing happens when you get used to a way of traveling, though. You block out some important messages—for example, “Mind the gap.” The gap that the recorded female voice speaks of is the space between the station platform and the train doors. Initially, I heard the repeated warning. But eventually I blocked it out, the way we all do when we hear something over and over again. So, I was rushing off one train to catch another and apparently not holding onto my cane tight enough. As I stepped across the threshold, it fell through that gap! Inside, it took a moment for me to register what had happened. When it did, I’m not sure if I screamed, “No, no, no, no,” inside or out because of the screech of the tires and squeak of the train as it left the station. I was frozen, and people pushed around me to get to their destinations.
For me, with only one good eye to see out of, the white cane is not just a prop that some people think it is. It is a survival tool! Whether I’m in my own city or a different country, the white cane says to sighted people, “I may not see you, so please look out for me.” I felt lost in that Tube station for a few minutes, until Anna joined my side.
After retrieving my discombobulated cane, I threw it in the trash. It was useless. For the next few days Anna helped me out. She told me where the curb cuts were and where the sidewalk just dropped off. She also told me about oncoming traffic. For three days, Anna was basically my eyes. Oddly enough, we got through the trip without injury. Partly it was due to Anna and me being super-careful, and partly it was due to the forward thinking of the London City Planners. I mean to say that they had installed talking or beeping crosswalks, the sidewalks were maintained, and we didn’t have to walk on the grass anywhere—not even as far away as the City of Westminster.
Westminster is the home of Abbey Road and of the former Apple Studio, where the Beatles recorded many of their greatest albums. One of my all-time favorite bands is The Beatles. My first concert in Norman, Oklahoma was a tribute to the Fab Four aptly named 1964 The Tribute. When I was in middle school, the concert came to the University of Oklahoma, and my parents got the family tickets.
So that was why Anna and I had taken the long Underground ride out to Westminster. Initially, we just watched people hold up traffic at noon on a weekday to get their picture taken in the famous Abbey Road album cover poses. After a while, Anna and I got up the nerve to try and do our own version of the Beatles Abbey Road crossing. A nice girl, a stranger, offered to take our picture for us as we crossed the street.
As we began to cross Abbey Road on foot, the cars came to a halt before the zebra crossing, which is the fancy British term for a crosswalk. We paused for a split second for the photograph to be taken, at which point someone honked. We both looked a lot like tourists wearing our backpacks and dressed in vibrant colors.
For me, Abbey Road was significant, because the last time I had been in London I didn’t get to see that area. The last time I went to London, the itinerary had been all planned out for us by our guides, some teachers from Norman High School. We took the underground some and went to lots of museums, saw the changing of the guards, and rode in a coach (which is what the British call a bus), and snapped pictures out the windows. It was a whirlwind of a trip, but still fun.
This time, though, I got to step where The Beatles had all those years ago. This time I’d gotten to help with making the itinerary, which made the trip even more memorable and fun.
A few days before I lost my white cane to the Tube, we got up super early. Anna was excited, and I was nervous. She practically had to drag me to the next location on our itinerary even though we’d talked it over before. What I had gotten myself into was taking a ride on the newly-installed London Eye. At first, I resisted. I’m afraid of heights. I don’t like Ferris wheels and carnival rides in general. However, the London Eye was glassed in and went really slowly—whew! Finally, we got a panoramic view of Parliament, the Thames, etc. The London Eye was not something I would’ve chosen; it was on Anna’s bucket list. But it turned out to be something really cool to do, even if we did have to wait in a long line. Norman, Oklahoma didn’t have anything like that.
As the trip came to a close, I realized that with or without the white cane, it was much easier to maneuver London, England, than Norman, Oklahoma, any day. Not many people in the United States understood the transportation problems that someone like me faced because most people drove themselves. I felt a sense of new freedom in London. Having buses that actually ran on time and the London Underground at our disposal really helped. We could go anywhere on our terms.
Unfortunately, I knew I’d have to give up the freedom in a few days’ time. This thought makes me sad even now as I write about it.
I knew I was going back to my parents and the quiet, sleepy town of Norman. My parents loved me and provided lots of support, but sometimes they were too vigilant. I felt like they didn’t always understand me because they lived in an ableist society. I didn’t think they understood my perspective.
When I got back to Oklahoma City, I didn’t receive the usual parental, “Hi, how was your trip?” Instead, the first thing my parents said was: “Hi, where’s your cane?”
Ouch, I thought, and a big hello to you too!
After going to London, I’d realized exactly how independent I could be and how little credit I was given for it. Anna and I had traveled around London for three days without my cane, and we’d done well.
To this day, I do not drive due to my visual impairment. I have an independent streak, though, so I don’t like sitting still for very long. This interesting combination collides inside me often—especially during the past two years and the Covid-19 lockdowns.
Since that memorable trip with Anna in the summer of 2001, I have been to Europe again, as well as a few of the coastal states in the U.S. I have relied on public transportation when I could, just like the next person. Even if I do occasionally get lost underground, it all works out in the end.
Throughout the years, answering machines have become obsolete, and now I rely on a cell phone. However, my parents’ messages have not changed.
“Hi, Jennifer. It’s your Dad and Mom. I guess we missed you again. Have a good night, and we’ll talk tomorrow. Love you!” Beep!
My parents are still stuck in a pattern that is comfortable to them. A pattern where I am a child, still. I have more understanding of that now than I did in my twenties. They still see me as this visually impaired, clumsy little girl, even though I’m an independent adult who lives on her own.
They may not be able to change, but I can change. I have changed!
While I rely more on the white cane today than I did in my younger years, I am still independent. In 2001, I heard London calling, and I haven’t stopped traveling since.
Jennifer McKinney is a writer who currently resides in Austin, TX with her cat. She has been published in Soupstone Literary Anthology. In her spare time, she loves to read, travel, hang out with friends, and listen to music. Currently, Jennifer is in the early stages of writing her first mystery novel. She is visually impaired.