London - Rogue Style - Day 1

Beating 5am alarm snooze for as long as possible. I wake at 525am with a camp fire in my guts. Two trips to the bathroom bring little relief.
Smoke. Brush teeth. Hit the road.
Kiss Lauren goodbye and head for the line.
With no bags to check and having checked in online - should be a breeze.
Instead, takes 40 min. People cutting in line, lines closing, too much luggage.... all factors of the traveler waiting time.
See Rob Nield's large, glassy, red eyes and laugh it off with him.
Board the plane.
Strong arm the aisle seat from a small Indian man wearing Levi's glasses. Levi's make glasses?
Settle in with Book #2 of Virgils "Georgics". Eyes struggle. Jot notes. Watch a bit of "Where is the Friends Home?". 20 minutes in, breakfast served. Hot wet slop.
Feeling really gassy.
Listening to Norsk music and drifting off.
At least if I wait to fart til I am asleep, I cant be held responsible or face the embarrassment of being "sniffed out".
Landed, flew through customs, in a cab to the hotel.
Get to hotel. Fucked up booking. Apparently when you ask for 2 beds... They just give you a bed big enough for 2 people. Even though it is their mistake, we pay for a childs cot. Walk through Crawley to train stop. Dismal. Grim. Loads of teen mothers. Gummo style girls on bikes with matching fake red hair. Going to get hit by a car. No idea what way cars are going to come down lanes. Right side driving is archaic. Get real... Switch sides already! Newspapers with not a single hopeful headline. Getting drunk seems the only viable option in this god forsaken place.
Waiting for the train and trying to remember what the sun looks like.
Shit man... Iggy pop is doing car insurance ads here? It is the end of the world.
Old people on the Victoria bound train discussing the situation in japan. Apparently "it was bound to happen."
Yeah I suppose so. But your ideals about the why, how, when are quite preposterous. Suicide must be a pandemic here.
With all this cheek kissing, it must take forever to sit down. "Alright. Yeah alright. You right. Alright. You alright. Right right."
Ben points out the first English castle. Looks like a prison. He corrects himself and says "not really a castle. Probably an insane asylum."
At least there are trees, green grass, and slight semblance of urban culture (by that I mean, at least attempts at graf.... Piss poor but still an attempt)
Saw a red fox licking itself in a bed of daffodils near East Croydon.
Ben points out the power station from Pink Floyd's "Animals" album.
Made it to London Victoria station. Its like Times Sq inside. But more like a 99 cent strip mall filled with sad people .
Got in a black cab and Ben asked the driver to take us to Covent Gardens via Big Ben to "show his American friend". What a knob.
The eye of London, Westminster abbey cathedral, big Ben which truly is just a big clock. Most interesting of all was a giant statue of Abraham Lincoln. What's Abe doing here? Thought England would be pissed at him for undoing all of the horrible impositions they placed on us.
Saw a van having an identity crisis. Apparently it thinks its David Bowie.
Nelsons Column, the National Gallery. Teenagers mounting a giant stone lion. English national opera where Ben performed for 2 seasons in "yeah I like girls... Just not yet."
Terry Gilliam is directing a play here in may. That's somewhat interesting.
Just bought tickets to see "Ghost Stories". Be were persuaded into sitting in the "terror seats".
Rocked up to Covent Gardens. Loads of St Pattys day children in jester hats and stupid green regalia.
People going ape shit for a juggler. Really?! A juggler?!?!
Then limbo artists. Limbo and artist - 2 words that have never been side by side.
Zip through the times sq esc tourism and find a place to eat.
Crab starter that Ben compares to something disgusting. Beers, chats, pork products.
Irish pub, doubles of whiskey, crowded streets of open containers. Sound of broken glass followed by "ohhhhh" ringing clear. Meet ben's ben.
Head to theatre. Front row. More whiskey rattling in glass over deep bass. 15 year olds behind us. Convinced we are actors. Play along.
Scariest thing about the play was the cordoroy suit the narrator was wearing.
Off to the St. Patty's pub mayhem.
Steel cheekbones = underage rape
I don't totally understand the "club" scene. I guess it Basically the same as anywhere (that allows 18+ to drink).... Sad, lonely girls go home with 30+ guys with slick talk.
Sad.
Its time for bed for this overage, claustrophobic, antisocial dude.
What turns me on is a full English breakfast.
Sick. Yeah maybe to some of you.....
But to those with morals.... Yes.
Pork is better than regret and sin.
I love my girlfriend and I love America.
Suck on that you filthy club swine filth!
If that was too mean - that's what honest dudes do.
I love you Lauren.
Kentish don't know about the BK.
Fact.
Mrytle and Bway is the toughest block on the planet.
Drunken stumble to Ben's parents house where the lights go out and I am dreaming of being sober again.
Maybe tomorrow.