So it is Monday and I finally have some time to be behind a computer and am so unsure of where to begin. So, being me, I will go chronologically.
Day One-ish: The East London Powerlifting Team
After a good six hours sleep (the total hours among Dan. his Dad and me), we boarded our flight. I took the time to red my friend's amazing novel. That's the beauty of six-hour flights.
THE HASSLE OF DAN ACQUISTO
Poor Dan. The ticket agent at JFK gave him grief over his bags, then at Heathrow, he was grilled as to why he is entering the country. Because, you know how scary Dan is, right? His Dad got in fine, as did I (I am here for business. My show is being done...) The woman behind my coutner was very nice. And yes, I notcied her teeth.
This might be the perfect itme to take care of all the "Ugly American" parts of my experience. So, whenever I am at a NY airport, and there is a group of women in bedazzled sweatshirts form a Red state with an accent, I alway try to listen to them - and yes, to talk with them too, since I am a nice Southern boy - or can be. They have such amazement at New York, its pace, the skyline, the wonderful theatre (You now, Phantom). I AM THOSE WOMEN now that I am in Europe. I have my digital camera with me. It is less than 48 hoursin to the trip and I have 106 pictures already.
Our first night in London was marked by a bus ride that makes Harry Potter's trip on the Knight bus in book 3 look tame. Tiny bus, and we al have three bags. Then the these DRUNK BLOKES - about ten of them - all jacked and with open containers and rowdy loudy, get aboard. I swear they are the East London Powerlifting Team.
Now here's the surprise: they were friendly and helpful, almost like intoxicated boy scouts on steroids (maybe literally). My bag was underneath one of them (who had taken it upon himself to hoist himself on top of the luggage rack to sit. One of the largest fellow (appranetly Juggernaut's understidy in XMen 3), lifted it and handed it to me as if it is paper.
Then we arrive to our BnB.
MMM. SMELLS LIKE RABBIT
We have the whole house to ourselves - not exactly Privet Drive, but suburban. The kitches smelled of rabbit and was tiny and creepy. With unwashed dishes and pans on the stove cool but oiled.
And get this: the proprietor (who was at the other location of this 2-location BnB) left the TV on for us. What was playing? LAW & ORDER: SVU. And, of course, one I had already seen!
The house had "character" - wallpaper from 1902, metal light switches similar to a switchboard. And on the third floor, was the "Carrie" room, as I like to call it, a wooden wall with a wooden door where I am sure they keep their telekinetic girl.
It is late, we're exausted. Luckily, the lack of sleep has erased any threat of jetlag. But we walk into town - it is a transitional suburab, basically. We look for food. Not a lot of choices, save for a gas station convenience stor. Locked. Witht he one guy at the cashier behind the safety glass who will take your order and bring you your food. Dan and his Dad ordered a chicken wrap and received a baguette sandwich. I was lucky with my salmon and dill on oatmeal bread. I LOVE THIS COUNTRY! Yuppie food at the gas station.
Bedazzled sweatshirt tourist I am , I want pictures of everything. INcluding the sign on the pavement saying LOOK LEFT or LOOK RIGHT, most likely, to save the lives of tourists getting used to the other-side-of-the-road thing.
After a good nights sleep for all of us - in an adorable "family room" with kids sheets on the bed with words like "dude" and "teenager," Sunday was a glorious day.
Day Two: McMeals
They do. The house has a gorgeous backyard garden (from which you can see the one window in the Carrie room. Dark, of course.
The church where Dan and his Dad went is near a duck pond with a big willow in the middle. One of the reasons I chose the location for the BnB in Feltham (near Heathrow) was the Catholic church nerby. I met up with them later. In morning, the proprietor came to the house to clean up (um, yea - what about the kitchen) and wlecomed me to make my own breakfast. I COOKED IN A KITCHEN IN FELTHAM! And yes, I let the guy walk into the kitchen. Dan and his Dad went to McDonald's.
We hung out a bit in Feltham, then got a bus (though less eventful during the day, the ride made me wish I had motion-sickness bracelets and a bucket of Dramamine. And a valium drip). We get to the airport and Dan was let in with no event. All of our bags were over the weight limit, but they did not charge us because they were too busy.
And I am convinced too friendly. Thought there really is no such thing. Here for already 48 hours, the folks here are amzaingly nice and helful. And (insert my long-erased accent) they talk funny. A bedazzled sweatshirt moment: I marveled at the fact there was a vending machine at Heathrow that sold books.
We got to Glasgow. The airport has perfectly manicured shrubbery outside with a sign that I thought would appeal to those politically inclined to aggree witht he following: PLEASE DON'T PICK THE BUSHES.
At our taxi line, there was a Van behind a small car and one woman behind us. The dispather gave us the car and her the van. i think Dan and his Dan, in tis car, felt as longlegged as I am. I was sucking my knees.
But true to UK form, the driver was so nice and so helpful.
And last night for dinner, I had haggis.
DAY THREE: More to come
I will leave it at that for now, as I have to hightail it to rehearsal (oh, that's right, I am here to work, not just to travel and eat).
A preview of blog entry to come:
Haggis is ludicrously good
The architecture
Star Trek is following me everywhere.
