“Driving in, I didn’t feel fancy or particularly sophisticated. Mascara smudged, face puffy from lack of sleep. “What was that address again, love?” The driver asked as we pulled into a tunnel. He turned on talk radio and the hum of the interstate and phone recordings on the radio played the soundtrack to my drive into London.
British road rage is so funny – my driver shrugged a “what are you doing?” At a car who cut him off and nodded his head disapprovingly at someone parked in a driving lane so they could run into a bank.
The cars driving on the left side of the road reminded me of Alice in Wonderland – Through The Looking Glass.
Mary Poppins. Sherlock. Dr Who. I pretend to recognize suburban homes and rooftops from movies and bits of television. I could live in any of these homes. Even the boring ones that all look the same because even those have stain glass and are beautiful.
I took a 2 hour nap and found my way through the subway tunnels to the tube. I reluctantly got on the third train heading the same way and stood listening to Andrew Bird while I waited for my stop. Just one stop past Piccadilly Circus. I wandered around Topshop but it wasn’t quite what I wanted. It was fascinating to see just how like New York it is though. The cashier responded to my questions about her day as if I were a person asking about how she was doing and I bought a shirt. Nothing fancy. I just wanted to have something.
I found my way to a gluten-free and vegan restaurant and I walked around with my fork in a to-go bag and my eyes in the skyline. A man stopped to tell me that even though I had a mouth full of food and couldn’t respond to him, I look really quite cute today.
I watched some mediocre street performers while trying to determine the best time to return to my tiny flat for the night.”