n o w p l a y i n g - s c r i p t b i n - f a n c l u b - s t u d i o

make love to the camera



Oct 14 2000 - 2:39 pm

The First London Entry

These are the entries I would have made were I sad enough to actually update my diary whilst on vacation in London. They are pretty long and detailed; a good read if you want to see what a typical tourist day in London is like. I kept a written record while we were there, and these are taken almost verbatim from that. This is the first:

Arrival @ Heathrow 10:30 am

Express train to Paddington

Attempts to hail cab (assisted by a helpful old couple, and we see a swearing crazy old lady crossing the street. Welcome to London)

We go back and wait in the cab line.

Short wait, we get cab driven by young man, we tip him 2 pounds on a 9 pound fare (one pound is about $1.50)

We check in at the Generator youth hostel (a hip type place with a neon-blue industrial theme) have to wait one hour for our room.

We go to Callaghan's Irish pub nearby. I eat fish & chips & mashed peas. Pint and a half of Guinness extra cold. Back to the generator, where we sleep for 16 (yes) 16 hours.

We awake at 7:30 am, after waking several times over night.

Sally and I go to a Greek cafe across the street for an English breakfast (bangers {sausage}, toast, eggs over easy, baked beans and bacon)

We decide we don't like the Generator (sterile rooms with bunk beds aren't too romantic). Sal finds a B&B that's cheaper, with breakfast included, and a double bed. it has a hairdryer for loan, and for Sal, that clinches the deal.

We book it, go back to the Gen. and Sal showers while I have a bad cup of instant coffee and look at weird/cute French girls while having another smoke. Finishing, I go shower, and on my way out of the bathroom I see a naked German guy half-squatting in front of a sink and gargling with mouthwash. Hmm.

We leave, and go to the National Gallery. En route, Sal sees shoes she simply must come back to buy later (she does eventually...illegally, even...more on that later)

A homeless man asks 'Can you spare us a pence, please?'

Sally gets hit by a car. No damage.

At Trafalgar Square, we take pics as pigeons land on people who don't seem to enjoy the fact that pigeons are landing on them. We laugh.

We see the Nat. Gal. Tons of cool art. Sadly, we gyp them out of the suggested donation (sorry, England)

We go to the nearby Cafe in the Crypt under St. Martin's cathedral and eat scones, cake and tea while sitting on the graves of the dead. Neither us nor the dead seem to mind, but I don't know how I would feel about having a gift shop built right over my final resting place.

We make an Italian couple take our picture, and Sal worries whether they're laughing at us.

We go to Pccadilly Circus to look around, considering bad T-Shirts and overpriced cheesy theater.

We take the tube (the subway) back to the Gen, rest, and decide to go out for some Indian food at a nearby restaurant.

Once there, we meet an Australian, a Londoner (who once lived near me in Chicago) and his girlfriend from New York. She was one of these Americans who think the English are so cool that she uses their terminology, and even affects a slight accent occasionally. She was very nice, but it was a bit obvious. Sal was a bit freaked out, not being used to the friendliness of europeans. When the NY girl kept winking at her, she was afraid they wanted a foursome. The couple invited us to come back to their place to get high, or calls us a cab down to SoHo.

Down to SoHo it is. We look for the pub that the Londoner recommended, but the cab dropped us off at the wrong street. We end up in an Irish pub called O'Neills (it's a chain, but it's always really fun) We have fun drinking, and dancing even (and I DO NOT dance, usually). We watch some kids do the Irish jig, excellently, and try it ourselves, vowing to learn it when we get back home.

We leave, and field numerous offers from unofficial cab drivers of London. Basically, these are just guys who drive around trying to bilk unsuspecting tourists out of their money with ridiculous fares to their destinations. Wise to this, when one guy offers a ride for 8 pounds back to our hostel (a five pound trip), I retort by offering to pay four. He walks off, and I laugh.

We begin walking back, all official cabs pass us with fares. Sal has to pee, so we go to McDonald's, where I must buy a cheeseburger for 79p (pence) for the privelege. Fine with me. The security guard strikes up a conversation with me, asking if I have a sense of humor. I reply that I do, and we trade jokes. He tells a particularly good one about the Australian military, and I tell him the one about the bear trying to get served in a bar, which, unexpectedly, he finds hilarious. It's a groaner)

We walk the rest of the way back, and in our hallway, a teenage French couple cuddle and make out unabashedly. We tease them and go to bed.

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