London, the city that never sleeps? Most certainly not. Saturday my friends and I went to London for St Patrick’s Day. We are university students (aka cheap and use to pulling all nighters), so we did not book a room for the night & instead bought bus tickets for 8am Sunday morning. The day went well. We went to Camden Town. Some people call it alternative or indie, but it’s a maze tattoo parlors, souvenir shops, party stores, and street food vendors (who remind me of RAGBRAI vendors “Pork-chops! Pork-chops!”). From there I met Alice, a high school friend, in the Natural History Museum. It was really great to catch up, she’s doing well. As it started getting later we found a great pub in which to have a smooth, draft Guinness. We stayed to enjoy the music and atmosphere, at midnight they closed. Midnight always seemed late, but this time we still had 8 hours to burn. We wandered in search of a club that was open past 3. We wandered in search of a pub still open, or a McDonalds, or anything open. We walked from one McDonalds to another hoping they would be open and vacant. Everything was closed. Even McDonalds had bouncers to kick out the loiterers. We looked for four hours. London, and England in general is not big on rubbish bins, water fountains, or benches. At home we could have played in Walmart for hours or sat in McDonalds without anyone caring. Here? We were cold, tired, and ready to leave. The train station was open. It was not much, really just a fancy tunnel for the cold air to breeze through. But we had no other choice, we sat on cold metal benches for 2 hours waiting for the heated and indoor bus station to open. When it did we sat for another 2 hours somewhere between consciousness and dreaming where delusional, arbitrary images danced in the real world. The ride home was quick, I sleep in any moving vehicle anyway. All in all I’m glad I went. Sometimes mishaps make the best stories, who cares if everything is as expected? (appendix photos)
