Through the Underground of London, I made my way to Westminster and walked over to the London Eye. Despite being a constant tourist as I travel around the globe, I can't help but continue to loathe certain areas of big cities. I ended up going past the giant ferris wheel's entrance three or four times in pursuit of the boarding gate for the boat, tirelessly plowing through herds of selfie sticks and iPhones and various touristic sundry. This was just about when my espionage skills began to kick in.
Since I almost missed the boat due to my jam-packed wanderings, I was practically thrown into my life preserver and stunt doubled onto the small vessel. Our guide introduced himself, though I mainly envisaged Daniel Craig's face on his, and explained the safety precautions before we were on our way.
It ended up being pretty amazing. I was treated to a few leagues (or probably a third of a nautical mile, but it just sounds more impressive) of informational chit chat by the Mr. Craig before we were brought out to the open seas! Aka less restricted river area. With the wind blowing, the engine roaring, and the British pop music blaring in the background, I couldn't help but imagine a surly foreign double-agent barreling behind us as I almost but not quite fell over the side of the boat, saved only by the manly spy hands of James Bond and his quick-witted reflexes.
Despite the rather unflattering life preserver draped over my unseasonable layers of casual clothing, I felt certain that, had I been costumed in a red sequin gown and/or adventure-wear strategically cropped and slashed in appropriately sexy places, I would in fact pass for a Bond girl. Even still, my overlarge sunglasses, blonde hair, winning smile, and sassy wiles pretty much got me there anyway.
It ended up being pretty amazing. I was treated to a few leagues (or probably a third of a nautical mile, but it just sounds more impressive) of informational chit chat by the Mr. Craig before we were brought out to the open seas! Aka less restricted river area. With the wind blowing, the engine roaring, and the British pop music blaring in the background, I couldn't help but imagine a surly foreign double-agent barreling behind us as I almost but not quite fell over the side of the boat, saved only by the manly spy hands of James Bond and his quick-witted reflexes.
Despite the rather unflattering life preserver draped over my unseasonable layers of casual clothing, I felt certain that, had I been costumed in a red sequin gown and/or adventure-wear strategically cropped and slashed in appropriately sexy places, I would in fact pass for a Bond girl. Even still, my overlarge sunglasses, blonde hair, winning smile, and sassy wiles pretty much got me there anyway.
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