In stark contrast to U.S. customs, a kind, older Brit was quick to offer his two pence on the best way to get from Heathrow to King’s Cross and saved my mom and I a few pounds in the process. Stamp in passport, to the tube I went. I was on a mission with my four hours in London and Big Ben was ticking. By complete coincidence my lifelong friend Elliot happened to be in London for work and it would have been a shame to miss the small window during which we could meet up. A quick pizza lunch with my mom and his girlfriend was just like the old days back in New Jersey, unfortunately, our visit was short; business called and I had a train to catch.