DESTINATION St Martins Lane, London
INSPIRATION Hollywood power couple, producer Holly Wiersma and Cassian Elwes—agent and brother to “Princess Bride”’s Cary Elwes—kidnap me at the airport.
Travel journals in hand. BlackBerry out and emails loading. Adrenaline pumping through me as John Lennon sang through my earphones. I’d arrived!
I bounced off the plane and it was though the sound of music stopped short. Floods of people and unpleasant smells bombarded me. Adventure Angie disappeared. The reality of traveling alone hit me as I lugged my Patron duffle through Heathrow. (Yes—I was traveling with a Patron-labeled bag, given to me by a friend of a friend who worked with the tequila brand.)
Where am I? Mom? What was I thinking when I thought traveling alone was a good idea?
Wide-eyed, confused and torn, I wanted to sit down on the ground and cry. Missing a night of sleep will do that. Going back and forth between feeling like a child, versus solo career woman sent into bohemia, I followed signs for the train shuttle, doing everything in my power not to phone an assistant, demand a car-service pickup, and insist the hotel be notified of my arrival. That’s how I worked things out in my old world—but in this one I was giving self-reliance a try. My brain wanted to start plotting next moves, but it was instead hitting a lot of question marks.
On family vacations, this was the stage where everyone wonders aloud: “How far to our hotel? What are we going to do first? What are all the numbers and questions on these passport forms?”
“Mom, stop stressing, we’re on vacation. Dad, just pay the guy and stop counting how much you’re spending in your head!”
“JJ, can you please stop making jokes and help me with this luggage?”
“Adam, don’t be so grumpy. Jeez. Fine. We’ll go eat at the restaurant you want.”
“Will you all please just hurry up–this is not that complicated!” OK, I didn’t miss that part–the traveling and balancing personalities! I started to relax. Traveling alone just might be amazing.
I looked down and saw my cell battery dying. I am an adventurer.
Nope. Still scared shitless. I wanted to go back to the white carpet of my apartment, surrounded by the color-coded journals, planning my travel. The “build up and pretend” stage was so much more fun. My eyes, trained for spotting outlets, start scanning the walls to charge my BlackBerry while my brain plotted how I’d handle getting a train. I wasn’t about to ask for help.
Before I had time to panic, my BlackBerry flashed! It was a text from my friend from home, the great Holly Wiersma, producer and wife of the agent Cassian Elwes:
“Don’t get on the Heathrow Express. You are being picked up by a driver and brought to the Elwes estate. Meet him at Gate 3.”
FROM Holly Wiersma
TO Angie Banicki
subject Arrival
Don’t get on the Heathrow Express. You are being picked up by a driver and brought to the Elwes estate. Meet him at Gate 3.
BIO >> HOLLY WIERSMA & CASSIAN ELWES
Holly Wiersma and Cassian Elwes have always been a reality show to me. They live in the Hollywood Hills with their seven dogs–untrained. Producing the show is Prince Moses, the alpha pup who has a full wardrobe of dog outfits and his own cartoon strip. Four foot, eleven inch Holly is a social engine. Always in
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