London Experience #318

It was late.  Well past midnight.  I had just finished up at the library and was walking home.  After a quiet if spine-tingling walk through Green Park I was just rounding the corner by Buckingham Palace when I heard it.  It was distinct and clear in the cold night air.  A woman's scream.  High pitched and filled with fear.  Followed quickly by the deep, resonant tones of a man screaming in anger.  In a language I certainly did not know.

It was difficult to see from distance, but I could easily make out two people scuffling ahead on the sidewalk opposite.  As I walked toward them I heard a loud "thud" as one person was thrown up against the ply-board wall of the construction barricade, followed by sobbing and soft words spoken as if in apology for some previous act.  The man continued screaming.

I hurried to cross the street as the man grabbed the woman by the upper arm and flung her across the sidewalk where she tripped and stumbled, almost falling into the street.  Before I reached the scene another man, obviously having just finished up at one the two pubs nearby, saw the incident and quickly put down the bottle he was carrying and walked in the middle of the melee, acting as a shield for the woman against her boyfriend attacker.  Once I got to the scene, the attacker calmed down immediately and turned to me.  "Hey, what's up?" he asked rather nonchalantly.  "I'm fine," I said with some caution in my voice.  "Things don't seem to be so okay here.  I think you need to step away from the woman."

At this moment a building security guard arrived and on his two-way radio requested that the police be called.  The attacker turned from me and started yelling, attempting to get to his prey through the human shield.  The woman ducked away and moved toward me while the two men had a slight scuffle, which resulted in the (now very apparent) drunk human shield on the ground.

"Do you have a way to get home?" I asked the woman as she and I started to walk away from the scene.  I heard her attacker screaming after us.

"Yes, I do," she said and held up a set of keys.  "But he has to come with me," she continued and motioned toward her attacker who had closed the gap between us very quickly.

"We're going," he said to the woman now behind me as I turned to face him.  His demeanor had changed completely.  He was now calm and collected.  The anger I witnessed just seconds before was nowhere to be seen.

Before he could move past me a police van arrived and the security guard waved them down.  The attacker turned and looked at me.  Like a light-switch the anger had returned and the rage in his eyes was evident and intimidating, even though I'm a good 6" taller and had him by at least 20 lbs of muscle.

The woman sat on the curb crying as the police attempted to take her statement.  The man was put in hand-cuffs and placed inside the police van, cursing the entire time.  The drunk human shield was now nowhere to be seen.

A new addiction

It is well documented that I have a bit of a substance abuse problem.  I. Love. Shoes.  Before leaving Austin I painfully culled from my shoe collection the 10 pairs of shoes I was to bring with me to London.  From a collection of 68 pairs.  It was challenging.  It was heart-wrenching.  No, I am not being overdramatic.  Well, maybe a little.

As I was doing laundry last night and hanging my clothes up to dry on my fancy new "indoor airer" I noticed what could possibly be considered a new addiction.  One that has likely gone unnoticed by a good many people.

I seem to be addicted to buying new, cute undies.

At present I am the proud owner of 49 pairs of undies.  Yes.  Look at that number again.  Four.  Nine.  And yes, I just double-counted them to make sure.  I'm not exactly sure when it happened but it sure as hell did.

Now, is this a problem?  I'm not sure.  I mean considering with all my workouts each day (sometimes as many as three a day) I do go through them quickly and I can easily rationalize needing these and possibly even more.  But... if no one is seeing them on me but me, is it so important to have such a fabulous variety of drawers?

Seriously?!?!

All I needed was the restroom.  Simple as that.  I had enjoyed a few beers and it was time to "break the seal."  I did not expect... well... what I got.

As I rounded the corner to where the urinals were I almost ran into this guy at the end.  Well, it wasn't really a urinal set-up.  More like a big long trough for guys to saddle-up to.  I'm not the biggest fan of this set-up, but I really didn't have much say in the matter.  Anyway, this guy was standing right at the end of the trough, reading a book.  Or a magazine.  Or something.  I just remember thinking it odd that he was standing there, pants undone, urinating while reading.  In a bar bathroom.

As he was the only other guy in the bathroom I went to the opposite end of the trough, turned away from him as best I could, and took care of matters for myself.  Being a bit pee-shy I just needed to go off into my own little world.  So I finish, button things back up, turn around to exit, and exclaim, "Holy... jesus..."

See, what I was not expecting to see when I turned around was him, facing me, pants undone, penis erect, pointing straight at me.  And it was... rather... large.  Rather...  yeah...

"Ummmm.... uhhh... excuse me...  I gotta...  holy jesus..." Is all I could mutter.  I sidestepped him and made my way to wash up and leave.  He followed me to the sinks as if to try to strike up a conversation.  I was having none of it.  I am, after all, a good Southern woman!

Coming Out

He was a stranger in our kitchen, doing a bit of washing up.  I needed to get to the kettle to make some tea.

"Oh hey, I don't think I know you," I said as I said my excuses to reach and grab the kettle.

"I'm Michael*," he said.  "I'm here visiting Rachel*"

I made my introductions and we struck up some mindless banter while I waited for the water to boil.  What program we were each in.  Which campus we attended.  Had I been to the UK before?  Things like that.  As part of my explanation for the last question I mentioned that I had dated someone from Britain before and as such had visited a few times.

"Right," he replied.  "Yeah, a lot of British girls go for American guys.  And the other way round, as well."

"Well," I started.  "Often British boys and American boys go for one another as well.  Boys and girls don't have the monopoly on that."

"Oh right.  Yeah.  Of course.  Cheers." And the mindless banter continued.

I should have known...

It was bound to happen.  I knew it would happen.  I guess I had just hoped it wouldn't happen for a while.

Me: "Howdy, I'm Cary."

Him: "You're American, aren't you?  Where are you from"

Me: "Good catch.  I'm from Texas."

Him: "Hrmmm...  I met a Cary from Texas once.  You didn't.... by chance...  know my good friend 'Brit Boy'?"

Me: "Ummmm.... yeah.... HI!!!!"

Yuppers.  It has happened.  The first people I actually talked to while out and about trying to meet new people on my own here in London are friends of my ex Brit Boy.  Great.  Fabulous.  Wonderful.  Fantastic.  Wanna know what's even more fabulous?  They think I should work toward building bridges with Brit Boy since I am now in his country.

Seriously.

I have no words.  After what he said to me after our break-up I have no desire whatsoever to have him as a part of my life in any way shape, form, idea, concept, or thought.  I don't know that I can explain it, but it was just so negative.  I try to live my life in the positive arena and that experience just wasn't anywhere near that.

However, it is apparent that me living here in London is gonna mean me running into Brit Boy's friends. Well, I knew it was gonna happen.  I mean, he did live here for 15 years.  I guess I just hoped it wouldn't happen the first time I went out to meet some people outside of the grad program for which I am here.

5 on the 5th

I figured that since I am now residing in the UK, I should play nice and do as several UK bloggers (and those elsewhere in the world) are doing.  Blogger Stephen Chapman who writes the blog The State of the Nation UK organizes a monthly photofest of sorts.  It's called "5 on the 5th" and it is five random photographs taken from your life on or in the days leading up to the fifth of each month.  This month's optional theme is "Round."

It's also an opportunity for me to get back to taking pictures.

Here's my first contribution.  Posted without comment.

And now for something completely different

The silence surrounding the issue of teens being harassed and bullied due to their actual or perceived sexual orientation or gender identity has gone on too long.  People are people and all deserve respect and love.  In a time when kids are dealing with just trying to figure out who they are and how they fit into this world, the last thing anyone needs is to be fearful for the life and safety.  And for these kids to think that ending their lives is the only way to escape being tormented...  For too long have we not taken the steps to ensure the safety of ALL of the students.  It is time to step up and show that we give a damn.

Ummm... Ma'am? I'm trying to pee here.

Gentlemen's Public Convenience.  Apparently that is what a public toilet is called here in the City of Westminster.  The City of Westminster being a... borough? within the city of London.  As part of my immersion into London I have been trying to wander around and explore a bit each day.  I mean, I got really lost my second day here when I went for a run and... well... If there was a wrong turn to make  on my route, I took every single one of them.

Anyway, I was out and about yesterday just getting a feel for the neighborhood, checking out different gym options, and such when I realized that I *really* had to pee.  Luckily, there are these "public convenience" facilities all over the place.  You know, so George Michael always has a convenient place to go hook up with his random of the night.  I enter and it's actually not too bad.  I mean, it's not the men's room in the Four Seasons, complete with bathroom attendant ready to hand you a towel, offer you some cologne, and a Barbicide disinfected comb to run through your hair, but it wasn't a rat-infested, piss-smelling, hobo-sleeping shanty either.

Oddly, there's a small line to use the facilities, but I quickly get to a urinal while a few others are waiting for a stall.  So there I am, pants undone, urinating when there's a sudden knock on a door behind me I hadn't noticed before and a woman enters the gentleman's public convenience.  Holding a roll of toilet paper in her hand she looks around.  "'ello love," she says to a man waiting patiently for a stall.  "You need the stall, do ya?" At this point I am no longer able to pee.  It just stops on its own.  "'ello lovies," she says rather loudly in the direction of the stalls.  "People are waayyting.  Hurry along," and she closes the door through which she came.

I kinda look around in shock and try to finish my business.  As I'm washing my hands, she knocks and comes in again.  This time fully entering the room.  Once again she says to the people in the stalls, "Lovies... hurry along in there.  People are waayyting."  She then walks toward to stalls with the roll of toilet paper and passes it to the occupant under the door.  I hear him thank her as if nothing is unusual here at all.

All I could do as I left the Gentlemen's Public Convenience was nervously laugh.  I'm still not sure why I was so uncomfortable in the situation.  Meh... Just another thing to get used to I suppose.