Yesterday I chose sleep over art. Before you label me an uncultured swine, note that I had to scroll to the second page of museums listed on TripAdvisor before I found one I hadn’t visited. I did manage to haul myself to a magical place though: that’s right, another train station.
As it turns out, King’s Cross is a real train station where people go to get on trains. Incredibly, they seemed unperturbed by the proximity of Hogwarts Express. I asked the Starbucks barista where the Harry Potter store is. She said, it’s at 9 and three quarters. Then she said, it’s to the left.
After a quick but necessary detour into the Urban Decay shop, I found the line for the Harry Potter store. I wasn’t expecting a line to get into a store, but it serpentined across the floor and outside the station. The line was so long I worried I was going to actually end up on a train, but the dividers were reassuring.
Once the front of the line was within eyesight, it became clear that everyone took a picture with the trolley that was half through the portal.
Look at this trolley!
I wasn’t sold on this and in fact tried to skip it, but was shamed into performing this pose.
That’s right, I’m a Ravenclaw.
The store itself was a madhouse of sweating bodies and merchandise flying off the shelves, though usually not of its own volition.
Sadly the items I had in mind were out of stock, and there wasn’t a single tank top to be had in any size. The store has a separate wand room which would be fun if not for the crushing and madding crowd. And anyway I had already bought eyeliner from Urban Decay, which is the closest thing to a magic wand I’ll ever need. I made a few—9.75?—selections, and then I let the crowd push me out.
The weather has been warm and beautiful in London, a fact my Uber driver commented on between questions about American politics.
The store was fun and a bit surreal, but this was definitely the most magical moment.
paralyzedbynotcaring 