I’m not going to lie to you. This press trip stuff ain’t easy.

First, I had to fly all night or day or whatever it is we did, landing in some such distorted-scrambled-time-zombie-zone while my body desperately tried to catch up to where I’ve arrived.  Of course, part of my strategy for coping with jet lag is to immediately adopt the time where I am, so I really have no idea if I’d gone back in time or forward.

It mattered not. My body knew that something wasn’t right (and if anyone tried to tell me the time back in my previous life…LA,LA,LA,LA! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!)

Which brings me to the next part of a press trip. Suddenly I will be spending this next week, and I mean every waking minute, with people that prior to this trip, I had never (with the exception of one other writer) laid eyes on.

All seven of us were shuttled from Gatwick on a ride that, due to crazy traffic, lasted way longer than planned. We were tired. We were also packed in close and too much time had passed.

Suddenly we were sharing thoughts about our various bodily functions; comments were bandied about as we sat on the two benches of facing seats. Things like,  “I think I might vomit,”  or, “If we don’t get to the hotel soon, I will pee my pants.” Eventually we all stopped talking in a last-ditch effort not to embarrass ourselves.

Because we were running late, we had exactly five minutes to dump our bags and run down to meet for lunch. Luckily the Plum and Spilt Milk restaurant was in our hotel and knew we were coming. Bam! I ate a delicious roasted tomato soup accompanied by a divine beet and blue cheese salad. We had to eat fast! We needed to catch various train and tubes to go on our Olympic Village walking tour.

It was hot. We were late in joining a group of other tourists and our London Walks guide, Anne-Marie. We sallied forth from here to there and back again. The scale of the Olympic area was huge and in the throes of further building.

It was hot. We walked. We took photos. We finished the walking tour. We rode on more trains, where our various heads snapped back and forth and sideways, in a desperate attempt to remain awake.

We were on a new quest. We walked. It was still hot. We got lost. We walked some more. It was still hot. We got lost some more. We asked many British citizens how to get to the OXO Tower Wharf for our Not Afternoon Tea on the 8th floor. I am sure I was shuffling and staggering a little by the time we arrived.

But oh! We found ourselves on a beautiful deck overlooking the Thames. The heat had faded and the sky was throwing Jesus-rays about with abandon. A starter drink was delivered to our table. More lovely cocktail creations came forth, then plates of sweet treats to match the drinks. It was 6:00, then 7:30, then 8: 30, and all we have had is various forms of sugar and booze.

Turns out that everyone was hilarious (even prior to the arrival of the drinks). The sun finally blazed out over the ridiculous modern and ancient architectural combo called London.

We’ve all been delivered back to the crisp linens and quiet glam of the Great Northern Hotel; a boutique hotel that first opened in 1854, and which has been lovingly restored into gleaming modern elegance.

We have officially finished our first day of this Transat Holidays/Visit Britain press trip.

Sure, our bodies protested a little, but now that I’ve had a hot shower and am tucked in under my duvet with another melatonin tablet melting under my tongue….I’m not going to lie to you…when you’re hooked up with the right people, this press trip stuff can be a lot of fun.

Except for the 6:30 a.m. wake-up call. I’d like to skip that part, but guess what?

Tomorrow is another activity-packed press trip day.