Since arriving in London there are many neighborhoods that I just haven't been able to explore. My world as a grad student has really consisted of classes, studying in the library, commuting between home and campus, and visiting a few pubs with coursemates and a few friends. One place that I've had at least a passing interest in exploring was Vauxhall. While Brit Boy and I were together he would regale me stories of good times had dancing in Vauxhall with friends and how it has a pretty cool vibe. This has been supported by some friends who visit London periodically, so I figured it was at least worth checking out.
Well, accompanied by a couple of friends (a fellow student and a friend of his) I recently ventured down from my ivory tower to explore, get my dance on, and enjoy a much needed mental break. The result of the night out? Eh... We went to a few places and the crowds were... overwhelming. I mean, I'm fine with having to wind through a crowded bar or negotiate space on the dancefloor with my fellow... revelers? but people really just seemed oblivious to the fact that other people existed and were throwing elbows right and left. We visited at least three different bars and it all seemed the same. However, I do have to wonder if it was the fact that we didn't really get out until later in the evening (honestly, I'm not exactly sure what time we did hit the first place), but it did seem as if people were already well-hammered by the time we arrived.
Whatever. On the way home, my friends and I were crossing Vauxhall Bridge and chatting away when we saw a rather inebriated man standing/swaying close to the North side. Oddly enough, it seemed like he was trying to hide behind a lamp post, without much luck I might add. Anyway, as we got closer, it became apparent that he wasn't trying to hide but rather staggering his way across the bridge. At a very slow pace. As we approached he turned to me and asked for a cigarette.
"I'm sorry, I don't have any," I responded.
He attempted to focus on my face as he was processing my response and just kinda swayed from side-to-side. "Oh...." he finally stammered. "Well..." he started as his eyes showed that he had finally decided on one of the many of me he must have seeing on which to focus. "Come back to Vauxhall..." "No, we're good for the night. We're out." "Pleeeeaaasssee..." he slurred. I had to wonder if he needed an escort for him to even find his own way back to Vauxhall. Or to keep from falling over the bridge and into the Thames.
After I repeated that we weren't gonna return to Vauxhall he started to move but stopped short and turned to me again. "Okay then..." he mumbled and started to lean toward me as if trying to kiss me goodbye. I leaned away and said a polite goodnight. "Oh come on... just a kiss," he responded. "I'm good, thanks." "I can make it worth your while," he said and moved his hand to his crotch in what I can only imagine he meant as a seductive manner.
"As tempting as that is," I said, barely able to hold in my laughter, "I still think we're heading home. Good luck." And with that my friends and I left him swaying on the sidewalk holding himself. I hope he was able to give himself a good time.
