Late November 4th / early 5th November
I really did almost cry when I landed in London; how weak is that? I was just so happy. Ew. Everyone go throw up. I will now. Ok back.
Unfortunately despite my thinking London was home, I realized I really didn’t live here when a couple in the airport asked me how to get tickets for the tube. I had my two year old oyster card in my pocket and decided to see if that still worked, only to find out that not only was it functioning but it had 7 pounds on it! yay! However, when the couple in the airport tried to get me to help them I could not. They wanted a three day pass or something like that and the machines didn’t seem to offer it. I hope it was the machine’s fault and not mine.
Another man – who happened to be the man sitting in my row on the plane – came down with his daughter and was having an equivalent amount of trouble. I swiped my oyster card and walked through the gates, while my new friend pushed my luggage through to me. There was a train waiting to depart but I refused to leave my comrades behind. They couldn’t get the machine to take their tickets (it was too late at night I think – 11pm due to our flight being delayed), and try as I may I could not assist. Finally a tube worker shows up out of nowhere and tells them that they have to go through this other gate as he just glances at their ticket. They were very pleased that I waited for them for some reason “you’re too kind,” one of them says. (Those kind of phrases always make me a little nervous…too kind? Why not ‘you’re just kind enough’? or ‘your kindness has been wholly sufficient in this situation’. it makes me second guess myself to be called ‘too kind’.
We sit in the nearly empty car, joined only by another couple who sat across from me, and participate in some lovely small talk. It is my airport friends’ first time to London so they ask some things to do, if I like being there, etc etc. All was fine and dandy until they started asking me about their hotel or if I knew the best way to get to Buckingham Palace and I for the life of me could not remember. Nor did I have my awesome laminated London map. Just a guide book. With junk maps. I failed again. Sigh.
We ride for a while before the it starts to fill up in central London. I am sitting awkwardly straddling a huge suitcase with my legs so it doesn’t roll and holding onto my huge backpack that is on the seat next to me. At one stop a guy on the platform looks in at me and waves enthusiastically through the window. I kind of look around in a who else can you possibly be waving at kind of way before I halfheartedly and very confusedly raise my hand a bit to acknowledge this.
My other airport friends from across the way (who are the only ones left from the heathrow troupe) laugh as they watch this kid chat me up for the remainder of his ride. He sat down two seats over and immediately began talking to me about I don’t even know what. He’s sloshed. Which of course explains the rest of his behavior. He asks me what I think of his friend James, who went and stood some 7 feet away at least, and then proceeded to try to get me to admit he was a ‘sexy beast’ ‘isn’t james there a sexy beast?’ “hmm. Well I don’t know james,’ I say ‘ you seem interested though, perhaps you should talk to him? Want me to get him to come over here?’ He of course states ‘oh I know him. I’ve had him many times.’ Don’t you just love drunk british men? Because I do. He gives up on his james mission for a while and then all of the sudden lights up again and asks about the election.. “it’s got to be obama right? it’s got to be” Did I vote, he asks? Yes I say, absentee ballot before I came over. Then he goes on to say “it will also start a fun game of when will he get assassinated.” Then he apologizes a bit and says he’s sorry its an awful thing to say but it’s true. This is a common thing I found. I had several Brits say to me that they were both extremely excited about obama and that they think he is going to get assassinated within a matter of time.
I ask him why Bush hasn’t been assassinated then, clearly enough people hate him. He then explains ( I keep saying he because I don’t actually remember my new friend’s name. he may not have told me. Though we did shake hands all formal like)… he then explains that its because rednecks love bush. And that’s who will do it. the rednecks. The US is not gonna let crazy fundamentalist terrorists get to your pres, he says, but the rednecks will do it. He’s got a point, unfortunately.
Towards the end of this subject his friend james the sexy beast comes over and apologizes profusely for his drunk friend. To which my new friend says ‘ nah she loves it’ ‘youre alright aren’t you?’ I’m sorry’ then apologizes more. And I just laughed and said no no its great, and the people across the way can hardly contain themselves.
I should point out that NO ONE else on the tube was talking. Granted it is fairly loud as the old trains squeak and creak as they rush along the tracks, but still, there was no other conversation. Most people do not talk on the tube. And you particularly do not speak to strangers. Unless that stranger is me. Lots of London rules seem to be broken for me. But anyway, that adds a little to the visual of this true spectacle that was occurring.
Then my new friend continues with the politics saying things like “obama. Yeah, so abortions, they’re cool? Making love to everyone ? ‘ and as I said um and began to formulate how to respond to this and the word ‘cool’ being used with ‘abortion’ , not something I had heard before. But before I could respond in any way he switched over to asking if I could do him a favor.
I did not say yes. Because by now I knew my friend well. And I think he has pretty lofty ideas for favors. So I say, well, it depends on what you need because I don’t want to make promises I cant keep. He made a sad face. And then said ‘call me friend james over here and tell him you want to make love to him’ . ha! I knew it kid. No way. So I tell him no, and after much discussing and puppy dog face making, he still did not win. Too bad. Maybe if everyone on the tube wasn’t watching us like their favorite episode of Footballers Wives… but no.
His stop comes, he wished me luck with finding my friend and her place ( I explained the no address no phone situation to which he replied ‘ ooh that is scary’ nice. Thanks.) and said nice meeting me and then walked off. It had not even truly arrived in London and I already let a possible british husband slip away. Sigh. He’s probably an alcoholic. But he was a charming alcoholic. If only I had propositioned his friend…
Well anyway, Chalk Farm comes up, I get off the train and go to the stairs where a concerned woman asks if I need help carrying my suitcase up. No thanks I say, and I continue to insist that I am fine (of course I was not really fine, but for some reason I cant accept help). She looks skeptical but in order to prove myself I just happily trudge up the stairs trying to look like I do this every day. I reach the top of these stairs only to see a sign leading to ‘emergency stairs’ , where everyone seems to walking. I look around quickly. Surely there is another way. And there it is. An elevator! But what’s this. Two really sketchy guys are loitering right outside it..and I just saw one girl almost do an about face in order to avoid these guys and take the stairs. Now normally I am ok with sketchy, but I had so much luggage that I really wouldn’t be able to fight anyone off. Ugh. Stairs it is. So I haul up I don’t even know how many spiral stairs, and pause at the landing thinking my heart is going to explode and wondering if I will ever make it to jenna’s alive, when I look up and see a very nervous looking jenna butler Esposito who looks down and then gets very excited. I THOUGHT YOU DIED , she yells. Yeah. I am the worst friend ever. I am an hour late and had no way to contact her. But there she was. What a friend. Despite the fact that the immigration man yelled at me for not having the full address of where I was staying and asked what I was going to do if she didn’t meet me at the station, she was there.
We get to her apartment down the street at about 1215 am. We check online to see if we have a new president (nope), as we proceed to drink a considerable amount of strongbow. I understand Jenna’s complaints about that drink now. It is too sugary. It will be a while before I choose strongbow again. But anyway. We go to bed around 3 in a good state of mind, good enough for me to ignore the fact that there was ivy growing from her skylight (think of the bug possibilities) and that she told me there were loads of spiders in her room. ahem. really?
But hey. I am in London. and nothing can ever beat the happiness that comes with that. Not even spiders and hang overs and gas leaks.
What?
