My trip across the pond to ‘London’ happened by mistake. You know how they say you shouldn’t go grocery shopping while hungry? You probably also shouldn’t call your American parents from the wrong side of the Atlantic while homesick.
“Your brother and I are going to Harry Potter World,” my mom told me over the phone. “Do you want to come with us?”
“Do you mean, do I want to pay to fly across the ocean to visit the fake version of the city I live in?” I asked her.
“Yes,” she said, as if this made sense. I shook my head and rolled my eyes but yes, of course, I was in. How could I pass up a chance to experience ‘London,’ as imagined by Florida, after four years of living in the UK? When I agreed, my dad and sister-in-law – who have never read Harry Potter – said they were in, too, completing the transformation from mother-son trip into chaotic family adventure.
So, I booked a nonstop British Airways flight from Gatwick. The flight took about 10 hours and I arrived so late – around 10pm – that ‘London’ had closed for the day once I arrived. Already, it was shaping up to be an authentic experience.
Our journey to ‘London’ the next morning began with a water taxi from the Loews Portofino Bay Hotel. Not because the Italian Riviera had any relevance to our childhood memories of fighting over a shared copy of Harry Potter, but because that was where we found the most sensible hotel package. Also because in Florida, the whole world has been resized to fit within the parameters of Americans’ meager annual leave.
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When we disembarked at Universal Studios Florida – not to be confused with Universal Islands of Adventure, which is next-door – we crossed the US in a matter of minutes. We ventured past mini New York skyscrapers and a replica of an American imitation of an Irish pub. We walked until we reached Pier 39 in San Francisco. Instead of the usual sea lions sunning themselves on rocks in the Bay, we found King’s Cross and Leicester Square next-door to one another, right across the street. A classic red telephone booth stood out front.
“Pick up the phone,” my mom…
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