Wednesday, March 31, 2004

Dinner with family on the other side of the ocean.

I'm up, and it's morning. And, other than the fact that it hurts to move even an inch, I'm doing really well. My legs are getting quite a workout. Yesterday, I was having trouble with the right one and muscle spasms. Today, it appears, the right one is stronger, and the left one is difficult to lift. (Some time on it should, much like yesterday, help me work out the kinks.)

Yesterday afternoon, I went to Westminster Station and walked outside of it to find Big Ben. Then, I walked the edge of the Houses of Parliament, not taking the tour. Then, I asked someone directions, pointing out that the page break on the A TO ZED split the street we were on in half. I asked about Westminster Abbey, and they pointed right across the street, of course. (That's happened three times to me since I've been here. I ask directions for something when I'm standing right in front of it.)

I was too late to tour Westminster Abbey (and I chose not to attend Mass and try to sneak out in the middle of it), so I'm headed back there this morning. I may also go to the Tower of London - if only to assuage all those people who keep saying to me that I HAVE to see the Tower of London. Dena told me that the tour is absolutely excellent. Miss Gibson gave it props because it's old, but I'm just not keen on jewelry. Strange, huh?

Yesterday, I also went into this Dali exhibit, which was cool except for the fact that my legs decided to act up on me there. So I hobbled from melted clock to
melted clock until I found a chair - one that wasn't also sculpture - and rested. (I thought about buying Lupo a Chagall or one of the Picasso works from 1990 - even though he just wants some pin-up shot of Prince Harry and some footballer named Jonny Wilkinson kissing - because the gallery was having a sale, but I didn't have £3,000 handy.)

I saw the London Eye, but I didn't go on it yet. I'm going to wait for that until Miss Gibson can join me because it seems like one of those romantic movie kiss
moments. (Not that I want to romantic movie kiss with Miss Gibson, even though she's very, very beautiful. But I'm gay. And I suppose I want to kiss a boy while I'm here, but I don't know if I can fit that into my schedule. I'm pressed for time, as it is.)

She and I are supposed to see a play this week, too, if we can find some good tickets. Silly me, I had offers from Larry to get tickets, but I couldn't find a play
I wanted to see. Now, I want to see Judi Dench in ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, even though everyone's telling me to see JERRY SPRINGER - THE OPERA.
Shakespearean comedy seems more fun. Maybe I'm just trying to come off better. Speaking of, in speech, I've started dropping Rs and elongating certain words since I've been here. I sound, at times, like British-accented Madonna.

Anyway, yesterday, I stopped along the Thames at a bench, looking out over the sunset. And there was this boy there - a 19-year-old student named Chris - who loaned me a pen so that I could write Marley her postcard from Westminster Abbey. Chris spoke to me about America, the latest episodes of "24" that he'd seen and about how he wasn't an anime geek. I told him about my self-hating tourist schtick and how I just needed to get over myself.

We talked about an hour, and then I asked him what time it was.

"Um, there's a big clock over there," he said, pointing to Big Ben. The most famous clock in the world. Which was across the river. Right in front of me.

It was the most idiotic thing I've maybe ever done, other than buying a ticket to THE CAT IN THE HAT.

But I laughed it off, and he walked me to the tube station.

Last night, Miss Gibson and I met up with this woman named Holly Wilson, who is a friend of ours and another Phi Kappa alumnus who happens to be on holiday here.

One of the first things we discussed was who made the best meat pies in London.

I said, "Mrs. Lovett makes the worst pies in London."

And they asked me who Mrs. Lovett was.

We ended up eating on Brick Lane, where all of these Indian curry houses are. The food was exotic and delicious, and the name of my chicken-and-rice dish is
some word that I don't know how to spell. But it was excellent. (Also, we talked more and more about other Phi Kappans - including Black. Even though we were in the middle of London, it felt like a night out at the Shroom on Broad Street in Athens, which was kinda cool.)

We chatted until midnight, then walked Holly back to the tube station. And then, after we bid her goodbye, I had Miss Gibson pick out a site in the middle of the Liverpool Street Station, and she did. So she stood there, and I kissed her on the cheek.

And Miss Gibson said, "I figured you were going to do that."

And she smiled.

"It's all melodrama with me," I said.

"Yes, but that's good melodrama," she said.

And we walked back to the flat, talking about the family you choose rather than the family you're born to.

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