Speaker's Corner: The Tour! and The Return of the European Creeper

As promised (Albeit late), here I will share with you a tale of the country girl once again bested by the large an multi-national city.

This particular tale takes place in Early March. On this particular early March night, I had some how been pursuaded to spend the night away from my computer, books and movies in order to interact with actual live human beings. It was Trey (one of the girl's in the house's boyfirend)'s (?) birthday and everyone was going to a club called walkabout. Tired of being the eternal recluse, I agreed to tag along.

Once I got there however, I realized that I had forgotten to bring my ID. I told the other girls to go in without me. I said that I would rush home to get it and meet them back inside in about fourty five minutes.

On the tube ride back to Notting Hill Gate, things began to get a bit interesting. I got on to the tube in a completely normal fashion and the car started moving. As soon as it did however, a young man stood up, waving a pile of CD and made a speech attempting to get people to buy them. A drunk man near him told him very politely to "shut the fuck up"(and yes, I just typed the word fuck, twice. I hear gasps of surprise). So the guy selling CD's goes off on him saying that he's trying to make a living for his wife and kids etc. Then this other guy tells the guy selling CD's not to worry about the drunk guy and the CD guy starts going off on him too telling him not to get involved. Needless to say, the entire thing exploded into a huge Tube row which would have turned into a fist fight had the stop not come up and the guy selling CDs not left in a huff.

Needless to say, the bantering back and forth reminded me a lot of Speakers Corner on Sunday mornings. Speakers corner is a place in Hyde Park where, on Sundays, anyone can stand on a soap box and make a speech and the people in the crowds watching are allowed to talk and argue back. David and I went and it's the sort of place someone practicing their debating skills might like, but not the place for two pacifist Harry Potter fans who simply want everyone to get along and understand eachother. The best part about that speakers corner trip was the people giving out free hugs at the bottom corner of the park near marbel arch. They were filled with love in a place that was so full of yelling and animosity and that was nice. But I digress...

Anyway, after my little foray into Speaker's Corner: The Underground tour, I finally arrived back at the club ID in hand. On this particular Wensday night, the club had a sale on drinks for students. Any drink was only one pound and 50 pence. Needless to say it was a very fun night. So much so that I caught the attention of a French Moracan boy in corn rolls. He was studying English here in London. We danced for a bit and he told me about this really nice pub near his flat that he would like to take me to on Thursday (I was promised live music and everything). I said I would like to go and gave him my phone number. He told me that he would call me around seven o'clock on Thursday.

He didn't. I got dressed up and waited, but he didn't call. So I got fallafel and watched blazing sadels instead. The next afternoon he texted me saying he was sorry for not calling but he was really tired on Thursday night and asked if we could do it Saturday night instead. I should have known then I suppose. But, being the nice and much too naieve girl that I am, I agreed to meet him at the Kilburn tube station on Saturday night at 7.

I got to the Tube station, he showed up at about 7:15 with one of his friends and carrying what looked like Chinese take away. He told me that we would have to stop by his appartment to drop off dinner for his room mate. Seeing nothing wrong with this I said "OK". When we got to his appartment he ushered me into his room and asked if I wanted a drink. I said I would take a coke though I was feeling slightly uneasy. Afterall, I thought that we were going out to diner at a pub. He came back with my drink and closed and locked the door to his room. Apparently "Date" in English is synonymous with "hook up" in French.

I set him straight fairly quickly. He said it was fine though he looked distinctly disappointed. We went out to a club (not the pub he had promised) with a couple of his friends. I paid my cover, but he "cleverly" got out of paying his. He bought me one drink, even though I told him that I had not had diner yet. And, while I was there, he barely said two words for me, but made sure that I was draped beneath his arm like an ornament.

Eventually, I looked down at my phone, pretended that I had missed a call, excused myself for a couple of minutes and when I came back, I told him that my friend was sick and needed me to take her home. He said "That's cool baby" (those of you who know me know how much I hate that particular "endearment"). I left and, though he continued to text me, I never spoke to him again.

Depressing as this may sound, I promise you, my life in London was filled with good things too. Not simply awkward romantic encounters with creepy European men. The next weekend was much more awesome and filled with greatness. But, that's a story for another post. Though, when I post next, I will probably be back in the States. This makes me quite sad, but...oh well. I will be back. I know for a fact that no other city in the world can attract and fascinate me as London can. It's my home and I can't truly settle in any other part of the world I don't think.

Anyway, I will be back in touch with yet more tales of my adventures from across the pond. Until then, peace be with you. (It's holy week and I felt like being...holy).