Days Oneish Two and Three

Dad was concerned that we would be late for the train if we did not arrive half an hour early as instructed by the ticket and if we did not leave an extra hour for traffic (this was actually sort of understandable because of our luck but also slightly insane in retrospect). He also worried that five hours might not be enough time to reach my airplane terminal, so I had ample time to contemplate the train conductor (who was talking about his parole officer) that sassed the crap out of the this guy in the quiet car for talking on his cell phone and the eccentric billionaire that owns the airline we flew on who is apparently building the first rocket ship for civilians. I successfully did not raise my hands in the air and shout WOO like I was on a rollercoaster when the plane took off. I thought about sleeping, but then I thought it would be a better idea to watch Shutter Island at 2 AM on a dark plane and attempt not to scream in people’s ears and piss myself. Then I realized that I would not be sleeping for another 24 hours and slept in the most comfortable position I could, head slumped on the meal tray with the words Virgin Atlantic imprinted backward on my forehead.


This entire country is built for lefties. They walk on the left side at the Tube Station, they do awkward things, it’s glorious. I have already been accosted by several people on the street and asked if I was American (I wasn’t talking or anything touristy, I swear. They can just smell you. Like a drug sniffing dog). This is wonderful, because once I have been established as an American, they can say ironic things, like how lovely the weather is (it rains a lot) and then explain the concept of irony (you see, Americans don’t have irony). They do not respond well when I call them redcoats and remind them that they lost the Revolutionary War.

Anyway, my first (technically second. My sense of the time space continuum is messed up because I only slept an hour and I’ve never been this far out of my time zone) day, I went on a quest to Camden Town, which is the greatest place in the entire universe. It’s London’s punk/goth/strange alternative music/anti-government subcultural haven, which allows me to do what I do best: creepily follow people around and take notes on them. People snog in the streets here (fun fact: snogging sounds like it involves mucus or spoiled milk, but does not, in fact). Also, the vendors use severed plastic mannequin legs with stockings on them as awnings, yessssss. Also, there are sweet double decker buses everywhere, and the graffiti in public restrooms contains political arguments rather than exclusively curse words (This is something I have to research further. Are people more likely to poo in a public restroom in England, giving them more time to formulate rebuttals? Why do so many people tinkle with markers? Do these toilet arguments affect the polls?)

The next day was more structured since assignments have actually started now and fill pretty much all our time (but no worries, they’re really cool exploring assignments). We went on a boat down the Thames today under the London Bridge. Greenwich observatory was predictably amazing, as was my conversation with the crazy hat lady at the street market later (they were like Lady Gaga hats. It was great). Then we went to the Globe Theater to see the Merry Wives of Windsor, which was really exciting although I probably should have brought a stool to stand on. Not only is it a historical sight, but it is also a site from my childhood days of playing Where in Time is Carmen San Diego (although we actually ended up at a random pub called the Globe down the road first). Sadly, I have very few pictures because I thought my camera was irreparably damaged all day since the batteries were in backward.