London weekend was absolutely righteous. We stayed at a hostel called "The Clink" which of course led to a plethora of Hogan's Heroes jokes – shows you the kind of people that are studying on our program – and after the last week a little R & R was exactly what we needed.
But there was little rest to be had. Arriving on Friday night we found our way to a Mexican restaurant in the Euston area which IFSA had booked for a group dinner. I was, of course, immediately skeptical. This is not Mexico, nor did we have any business in Mexico, but I had an immense hankering for enchiladas which drove me to accept the invitation. The food wound up being delicious, and hot. At last, something spicy in this country which seems to have been abandoned by chili peppers of any and all varieties. The margaritas were tasty as well, a nice complement to the chicken mole, black beans, and other dishes on the buffet.
Soon, however, one had to make a decision: stay, and sample tequila, or go forth and sample the tantalizing fruits of the city at night. Tequila not being my favourite beverage, I decided to head off to Astor Hall where a good friend from high school happened to be staying. Astor is a dormitory for University College London students, and just the other week Allie and I realized that we were both in England at the same time. The stage was set: now all that remained was for Fate and her minions Alcohol and Happenstance to intervene. And did they ever.
At Astor, I meet Allie and Bryant (the boyfriend) and we make our way along with Sarah, Julian, and Zehava to an Indian restaurant. The mood is light. I talk about Latin among other things with Zehava as they eat their evening meal. I mention "Underground Rebel Bingo" and then explain the phenomenon to the group – I would do so here, but I'll save it for another entry. They finish eating, we leave, and Happenstance intervenes.
Let me start with Oliver. Oliver is a Brit, a friend of Allie's, who is going to meet us at the UCL student union (one of two). We show up about 30 minutes after speaking to him, and he is already quite drunk at which point he loudly insults Allie and doesn't even notice that I am there while we make our way back outside so Ollie can smoke. Ollie says something I can't understand and we're off to the other UCL union.
We arrive, and the place is ridiculous. There are goofy costumes, music and lights, and a bar which we all sidle up to and dive right in. The world is a good and decent place here in this moment: Ollie has cashed in some sort of token at the bar and received a large witches hat which he smashed onto his head and wears proudly. We sit about and talk for awhile, and I watch as a giant banana serves snakebites to two girls that probably don't need them. But what am I saying, of course they do. The bar is full and costumed drunks wander in and out. Halloween seems to be a multi-day affair here in Britain confined not to the 31st, but celebrated for two or three days beforehand. Soon though, a few hours have past. I walk back to Astor with Ollie, Allie, and Zehava. There's a little more chat and I eventually find my way back to Der Clink in time to slip into bed by 3:30, just ahead of Zach, my roommate, who stumbles in from bowling with several eastern Europeans just minutes later. So ended the Friday evening.
I awoke Saturday with the little hammer-men pounding on the backs of my eyeballs. Too much whiskey, clearly. I will go on to refine the recipe later that evening, but just now, I'm not exactly happy with said little men. After a small breakfast, our little clique of Americans decides to head out for Camden Market and get whatever we need for our costumes that evening. I buy a belt made out of .50 bullets, a leather jacket, and some leather hobo-gloves along with some shitty jewelery to complete my ensemble for Billy Idol. Zach purchases the gear necessary to look like a cross between Waldo and Ira Glass. We eventually agree on Waldo, as long as he talks with Ira's voice.
After our Camden adventure we go back to Der Clink to lick our physical and financial wounds and prepare for the evening's festivities. The hour draws nigh and I don a wifebeater, the bullet belt, and gel my hair to look ridiculous. I now regret not bleaching it, but the choice has been made. I feel like a complete pussy.
After a little pre-gaming we ride the tube to Tower Bridge, the location of our party. We're taken up an elevator by the security guards and step out into the bridge itself. The view is ludicrous: London at night is beautiful, but when the lights stretch out in such a way, it is breathtaking. We enjoy a reception before dinner, figuring out who everyone else is dressed up as, and then make our way to dinner. Braised chicken with an onion-shallot something I don't know on a bed of mashed leeks, with a gravy I can't really explain. Very good. We then proceeded to dance/karaoke with the best of them, my own offering being a startlingly good rendition of "Danger! High Voltage!" which others seemed to enjoy. I would have done "Rebel Yell" but there was no Billy Idol in the karaoke machine. Miffed, I was.
The party at Tower Bridge ended around 10:30, so I found my way back to Astor for what was nothing short of a drunken war zone. I will not attempt to elaborate in this medium, as I will not do any of it justice. I stumbled home late. Thus ended Saturday.
Sunday started rainy. We got soaked walking from the hostel to the hotel for brunch, but brunch was tasty. The train came on time, we boarded, and headed home.
Now I transcribe the poems for tomorrow's tutorial, update on my machinations in England, and eventually hit the hay. More to come, and hopefully some photos of the Halloween madness. Enjoy the week.
-M
