Boys, Boys, Boys

Week in Short: Hung out with all sorts of guys and had a marvelous time doing everything from drinking to shopping to more drinking to being invited to a ball.
-----------------------------------------------------------------

Explanation of Tardiness

I'm under the deadline of getting this all written during my lunch hour, so I'll make it short. My social life is kicking off, which while great, is not allowing me the leisure time to write the way I'd like to. So you'll just have to bear with me as I jot down the barest of paragraphs about this past week. It's Wednesday as I'm writing so I can't remember everything in great detail.

Straight Men Wear Pink

Tuesday I'd arranged to meet James Butler-Wright, one of my new upper class friends I met at Tom's club. Upper class he looked when I met him outside of the Embankment Tube Station after work. Upper class and, if he lived in the States, gay! He was wearing a pink shirt, with a blue tie embroidered with pink squares, and a pink pocket square to match. Add on the pinstriped suit, overcoat, and long black umbrella he was carrying, and he looked the quintessential Englishman. It was fabulous! I adore how well British men dress.

Premieres Everywhere

We got tickets to the Comedy Store, the best comedy club in London, and then enjoyed hummous and bread in Leicester Square. The other side of the Square was filled with the screaming of hundreds of fans at the premiere of 'Bad Boys II,' which is just opening here. It was a fun atmosphere to be in--hell, I'd never walked by a film premiere before, let alone ate dinner next to it. I'm hoping to go to the one for 'Love Actually,' the new romantic comedy, when it opens in November.

'Boo' On Being an American

So James and I went to the Comedy Store about 8.00 and enjoyed several hilarious hours of comedy mayhem, as a team of five standups did various acts and games. There was one low point, however. They asked if anyone in the audience was foreign, and I raised my hand (and James pointed at me). When asked where I was from, I said 'The States,' only to be booed by people in the audience. Booed! By Brits! Just because I'm a Yank! It didn't make me feel very good to be so hated. Now, I've told this to several other British friends and they all had the rather cavalier attitude of 'What did you expect?' My Swiss friend, however, assured me that such an occurance would never happen in Switzerland. Guess I'll have to move there to be accepted.

Maybe I Can Get A Little Sushi Out Of The Situation...

Tuesday was a blast, except for the fact that we got three new flatmates. Riya moved out (but stayed in my room a few nights before going to her new flat), and as the triple was free we were told on Monday we would be getting new flatmates from Japan. Which would be fine, except that they're Japanese MEN. IN THEIR FORTIES. Does this seem okay to you? It doesn't to any of us! We were all extremely--extremely--upset with Boston University for not telling us they were men. In their forties. I emailed the RA about it and she said it was common practice in the U.K. for people of the opposite gender to live together. Sure, but she's from the U.S. and knows we are, too, and that it's not common in the U.S. to live in the same apartment with strange members of the opposite sex. It's true that they find this to be entirely normal, because when I complained out it at work no one had a problem with the thought of living with strange men. But neither would the British ever consider walking around in a towel or bra--even while married--which is what I've been used to doing. No more walking around with an unbuttoned shirt before putting on deodorant! No sirree bob! Anyway, there's been some tension in the flat, kind of an us-vs-them mentality that's only exacerbated by the fact that they can't speak English. And that they don't wash their hands when the come out of the bathroom. And that they bang around at 5.45 a.m. and wake up Brenna. As of today, we're all peacefully coexisting, but are by no means on friendly terms. I've never been introduced to the gray-haired guy, nor do I know any of their names, and doubt they remember ours. Well, there's nothing I can do about it. My parents thought it was hilarious when I told them, and I guess it is a little amusing.

Singing 'Hail Alma Mater'--in Harmony

I finally talked to the guy responsible for my finding my flat. I'd met Matt Allen at a Study Abroad Fair in the spring and really liked him--he's a Medieval History major who studied in York for a year, and we discussed the merits of both York and studying abroad for that amount of time. I'd emailed him when I got to London and he recommended the flat, but although I'd heard about him from my other flatmates in the same theatre program as him, I hadn't bumped into him. He came over to see Elizabeth about something and we started talking about back home. 'Just a minute,' he said, and dashed over to his flat across the hall, only to reappear a minute later decked out in an Illinois hat, an Illinois sweatshirt, and holding a CD player blasting a Marching Illini tune. So of course then we just had to sing our school song (in harmony, of course) for Elizabeth. Not sure she appreciated it quite the way we did. Matt was a refreshing blast of air from the UofI. So odd to be talking about how the Illini are doing in football whilst in London, though.

Callum Harwood, As Cool As His Name

Thursday night I talked to my friend Callum Harwood online. Great name. Great personality. Great life. They guy is in the Army and has his pilot's license--which of course means that after a year of studying abroad at the University of Illinois (where we met), he spent the entire summer flying aeroplanes across Australia. What a life... Anyway, he had just gotten back to the U.K., where he's finishing up his Master's in Aeronautical Engineering before entering Sandhurst next year. As I had no plans for Friday night and neither did he, he decided to come in from Bristol for a night out on the town.

Never Try To Keep Up With An Englishman

We did indeed paint the town red, starting off by drinking an entire bottle of wine and 2/3 (okay, okay, 3/4) of a bottle of vodka mixed with orange juice. And that was before we even went out! We ended up dancing at a club called Equinox in Piccaddilly Circus, and afterwards Callum paid for us to ride in a pedicab. Imagine a rickshaw pulled by a bicycle, and then imagine being tipsy (especially after you'd just chugged a double vodka and Red Bull) and you'll know why we had so much fun riding around London. It was fantastic! We took a shady minicab back home and crashed into bed at 4 a.m., but not after Callum had given me a backrub and invited me to the Military Ball in Kensington Palace if I'm around in March. Kensington Palace! I'm THERE!

I Got To See TWO Penises On Saturday

I had to be at the Cornell/Penn/Brown student orientation, so I got up, bid farewell to Callum, and made my way to the orientation, where I was rewarded for two boring hours of sitting with sandwiches, juice--and a free ticket to see Kenneth Branagh perform in 'Edmond' that night. I was coming down with a cold, so after a bit of a kip (read: nap) I booked it over to 'Edmond' at the Royal National Theatre. Kenneth Branagh was stunning. I'm still in disbelief that I've actually gotten to see him perform live on stage--the consummate actor of his generation. The play itself was short (only an hour and a half), and while I liked it it didn't leave me with any sense of 'Wow, that was great' when I left the theatre. But what was great was seeing Kenneth Branagh full frontal! Actually, it wasn't that great, but you must take into consideration that it's stressful being on stage in front of an audience. I saw another penis that night, too--I was waiting by the London Eye for my friend Spencer when a group of drunken 13-year-olds walked past. A few of them veered over, and one of them took his penis out and waved it around as his friends gleefully cried 'Touch his willy! Touch his willy!' I gave them a stern shake of the head tempered with a smile, and they made their drunken way along the Thames. Sickening being drunk so young!

The Second UofI Kid In A Week

Anyway, my UofI/theatre group friend Spencer met up with me. You may remember that I met him about three or four weeks ago and we went out for a drink. It was nice to see him again and catch up on what he and his financee are doing. His dad was in town last week and somehow finagled a private tour of Parliament--by an MP (Member of Parliament)! Plus Spencer got to go to a reception there. I was highly jealous, but then remembered I'd been invited to Kensington Palace for the banquet, so that kind of evens things out a bit.

Drinking Our Way Around Waterloo

We enjoyed a drink near the London Eye just to warm up (the weather here is getting chilly, although the leaves are still all green), and then made our way to a great place called Bar Cubana, close to where I work. In fact, I'd walked past it numerous times and had been planning to go there. Spencer works on the weekends at a pub that I walk by all the time as well--and they're thinking of shooting a scene from 'Bridget Jones's Diary II' there. I hope it happens--how cool would that be? As live salsa music played in the background, I drank overpriced pina coladas and peeled an orange and chatted away. It's fun being around someone from back home who knows some of the same people, and I'll be sure to hang out with Spencer soon.

Changing Of The Guard--The Personalised Way

Sunday morning I was dragged from my sleep by Tom on the phone, a little bit too chipper for 9 a.m. He gave me directions on where to go to see him play in the Grenadier Guards. I got the best show ever--the part that most tourists don't know about--which is to line up and watch the Guards in front of their barracks before they march to Buckingham Palace. My camera stood me in good stead as I got all sorts of great shots of Tom in his red uniform and tall black hat. Can't wait to see how they turn out! As the band played and the soldiers marched behind, the other tourists and I followed them to Buckingham Palace, where a crowd of about 7,000 stood waiting for the spectacle. It sometimes swells to 15,000 in the summer, and Tom estimates that he's been in at least a million photos. I don't doubt that. Seeing the Changing of the Guard (what little I could see) was very nice, but it was all the better because I knew someone in it. That's the way to do it! Especially when they can get you into the barracks afterwards. I followed the Guards back, met Tom's fellow tuba player's finacee, and we walked over to the gate, which a guard unlocked for us so we could get in and meet Tom and Adrian. I felt so special! And it was fun seeing where the band puts their instruments and gets changed. Plus I got to walk by all sorts of Army Jeeps and Humvees. Neato.

Manners? What Are Those?

Tom and I went out for lunch, which ended up in him taking me out to lunch--meaning, the guy pays for everything, all the time! He said it's just his way of doing things. He also pulled out my chair for me as I sat down and walked out the outside of the sidewalk per good etiquette. James is the same way. It's unusual for me to be around men with polished manners. Back home if a guy opens a door for you it's unusual. I think it's part of being educated privately, and of having it drilled into them at a young age. Tom said if he didn't walk on the outside of the sidewalk his mother and grandmother would make sure to comment on his breach of etiquette. That's the way I'm raising my kids!

I'm Going to a BALL!

Towards the end of our lunch Tom asked what I was doing the first weekend in November. 'Nothing,' said I. 'Well in that case,' he asked, 'Would you like to go to the ball?' His club is putting on a 'Top Hat & Tails' ball! And I'm invited! Ahhhhhhhh! I'm SO excited! Can't you tell! This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and while the ticket is slightly on the expensive side, £90 isn't so bad when it includes dinner, champagne, and carriages arriving at 2 a.m. to whisk guests home. Not to mention that I'll be able to meet and fall in love with a Duke this way. Or a Marquis or Earl--I'm not picky! In all seriousness, it's going to be a fantastic night. I've seen the ballroom and it's amazing. The only problem is that now I have to find a dress and shoes! The theme is sort of 1930s, so I'm going to do my utmost to find a long satin dress, preferably silver and bias cut, perhaps backless. This weekend I'm going to hit up the vintage shops to find The Perfect Dress for my Very First Ball.

The Long Walk To Nowhere

Tom gallantly walked me through St. James's Park to Trafalgar Square, where I met my old friend Nikos from the days in Swansea. Nikos is Greek and spent the summer living in Italy to perfect his Italian; now he's here getting his Master's degree. It was fun seeing him, although we ran ourselves a bit ragged with all the walking we did: we went from Trafalgar Square to Oxford Street, to Carnaby Street, over to Marble Arch, into Hyde Park (and past Speaker's Corner, where half a dozen men standing on boxes ranted and raved and poked fun at the passersby milling around them--much more chaotic than I expected!), over to Harrods (shut on Sundays) to Sloane Square and down the King's Road in Chelsea, finally ended up in South Kensington and back at my flat. I was exhausted, so after Nikos left (with the promise to come into London soon), I slept like the dead and tried to get over my terrible cold. Which I'm happy to say worked, and I've been feeling my chipper self again.

Until Next Time

I promise to write on time next week. Well, no promises--I'm going to the Comedy Store with Matt on Sunday so who knows when I'll have the chance. At any rate, take care and have a great rest of the week!

Theresa