Week Five: 4 nights out.
This week was filled with going out, showing London how we work it, new friends and gypsy costumes. But I’m already off track.
After last weekend’s misadventures, I was determined to make a better week of it. I met with my seminar group on Monday. Kris (Norwegian) and Jennifer (American) proved to be enthusiastic, smart and fun group members, which was fabulous. I came home form the meeting energized and absolutely starving. After eating a spaghetti/cheese/pesto concoction, Will (my flatmate) mentioned a place he knew of with really good live music… where he hadn’t been for a year. So, we took the 73 bus (known as the seventy-free bus to some) down to Tottenham Court Road. Unsuprisingly, the venue was closed. However, undissuaded, we took the seventy-free back up to Islington to a pub called the Salmon and Compass, where the SOAS Law Society was having some sort of social event. By social event, I mean a bunch of skinny Asian guys not wearing shirts, and a few people dressed up and dancing around by themselves on the dance floor. We quickly drank the free Stella Artois on offer, and headed back to good ole Dinwiddy, where we drank some more and played lots of card games. All in all, good fun.
Wednesday was the day of speed dating. I had convinced Vicki to go on the basis of it being a laugh. It was on one of the boats on the Thames, and I was positive I knew where it was. Turns out I didn’t know where it was, and we walked up and down the Thames for a mile or two before we finally found it. Then we waited outside (and it was cold, mind you!) for a good 45 minutes, hungry and with a Thai restaurant in sight. It was torture, I tell you. However, we met some nice girls also waiting (they kept the boys and girls separate), and one girl who I really wanted to kick in the face. Of course, Girl-I-Wanted-To-Kick-In-The-Face ended up sitting next to me. Of course. Anyway, I got a sticker that named me “Girl 11” and as soon as we got on the boat, we went looking for our free drink.
Turned out “free drink” meant “all the free drink coupons that you find, borrow or steal”, so that part of the night went really well. The speed dating was not nearly as humorous as I expected it to be. The guys were on the whole, really nice, not socially awkward, good looking and um, normal. We were supposed to rate people as “Would like to date”, “would like to be friends”, “not sure yet”, and “complete turn off”. The last one’s a bit mean, I know. What I will make fun of about speed dating was that the conversation you cancome up with in 4 minutes is not very original. A typical speed dating exchange:
“Hi, I’m Shannon.”
“Hi, I’m (insert boy name). Ooh, so where are you from?”
“I’m from Long Island, outside of New York.”
“Ooh, how do you find London?”
“Oh, um, it’s a lot like New York, with better accents.”
“Oh right, so what do you do in London?”
…
Now imagine this exchange over 14 times. I ended up getting a bit bored with it and spicing it up:
“Hi, I’m Shannon.”
“Hi, I’m :random boy name:.”
“So how many people have you rated complete turn off?”
Since the music after the speed-dating wasn’t that great, Vicki and I stumbled over to Soho, found pizza at about 1am, took a bus going the wrong way from Trafalgar Square, got on a bus going the right way, and got home at 3am. Good night overall, anyway.
Thursday I had to work, as per usual. Instead of someone asking me inappropriate and weird questions though, this week an old toothless black man took a fancy to me.
“You’re pretty,” said old toothless black man.
I hemmed and hawed, blushed a little.
“You have a pretty smile. You should be here more often!” said man who will henceforth be referred to as sweet old man.
Well, I thought it was cute. It was better than the random British guy who groped me my first week in London and when I got offended told me, “I couldn’t help myself, you’re just so attractive!” Flattery will not get you out of that one, buddy.
Again, I met with my seminar group, walking past some Bangladeshi karaoke at SOAS. Best part: Bangladeshi karaoke is not nearly the random event you might assume.
Friday we presented in my seminar, then I slept most of the afternoon, then went to the Arabic party at the International Student House. We were promised belly dancing and shisha and live music. There was all of these things, but the live music was highly politicized and um, not very good. To counter this, we decided to drink tequila. The night picked up after tequila, and we ended up getting to see belly dancing after all and to dance our little feet off. When we got back to Dinwiddy, my friend Leah made us grilled cheese, a tasty treat apparently unknown to British people, and we stayed up and talked til 5am.
Saturday was a wash after that, anyway. I woke up to a text from (Rochester) Leah at 10:30, layed about in bed and read until 2:30, and went back to sleep til 5. An entire waste of a day. I was supposed to meet Leah and Vanessa at 8;15 in Brixton, so I pulled together a gypsy costume, and got on the Tube, realized I needed to top up my Oyster Card, ended up running 10 minutes late anyway. The party was in the basement of a church which was a pretty cool spot, and our only encounter with the fabled Brixton scariness was when a very large, very crazy man came up behind us mumbling. The three of us looked at each other, and simultaneously picked up the pace to the bar. The very large, very crazy man quickly gave up.
Sunday as usual has been lazy. Just went food shopping, bought cake for my French flatmate who finally turned 18, ate homemade cookies, and went to the pub with Trevor and Vicki. Week Five. I can hardly believe it.
After last weekend’s misadventures, I was determined to make a better week of it. I met with my seminar group on Monday. Kris (Norwegian) and Jennifer (American) proved to be enthusiastic, smart and fun group members, which was fabulous. I came home form the meeting energized and absolutely starving. After eating a spaghetti/cheese/pesto concoction, Will (my flatmate) mentioned a place he knew of with really good live music… where he hadn’t been for a year. So, we took the 73 bus (known as the seventy-free bus to some) down to Tottenham Court Road. Unsuprisingly, the venue was closed. However, undissuaded, we took the seventy-free back up to Islington to a pub called the Salmon and Compass, where the SOAS Law Society was having some sort of social event. By social event, I mean a bunch of skinny Asian guys not wearing shirts, and a few people dressed up and dancing around by themselves on the dance floor. We quickly drank the free Stella Artois on offer, and headed back to good ole Dinwiddy, where we drank some more and played lots of card games. All in all, good fun.
Wednesday was the day of speed dating. I had convinced Vicki to go on the basis of it being a laugh. It was on one of the boats on the Thames, and I was positive I knew where it was. Turns out I didn’t know where it was, and we walked up and down the Thames for a mile or two before we finally found it. Then we waited outside (and it was cold, mind you!) for a good 45 minutes, hungry and with a Thai restaurant in sight. It was torture, I tell you. However, we met some nice girls also waiting (they kept the boys and girls separate), and one girl who I really wanted to kick in the face. Of course, Girl-I-Wanted-To-Kick-In-The-Face ended up sitting next to me. Of course. Anyway, I got a sticker that named me “Girl 11” and as soon as we got on the boat, we went looking for our free drink.
Turned out “free drink” meant “all the free drink coupons that you find, borrow or steal”, so that part of the night went really well. The speed dating was not nearly as humorous as I expected it to be. The guys were on the whole, really nice, not socially awkward, good looking and um, normal. We were supposed to rate people as “Would like to date”, “would like to be friends”, “not sure yet”, and “complete turn off”. The last one’s a bit mean, I know. What I will make fun of about speed dating was that the conversation you cancome up with in 4 minutes is not very original. A typical speed dating exchange:
“Hi, I’m Shannon.”
“Hi, I’m (insert boy name). Ooh, so where are you from?”
“I’m from Long Island, outside of New York.”
“Ooh, how do you find London?”
“Oh, um, it’s a lot like New York, with better accents.”
“Oh right, so what do you do in London?”
…
Now imagine this exchange over 14 times. I ended up getting a bit bored with it and spicing it up:
“Hi, I’m Shannon.”
“Hi, I’m :random boy name:.”
“So how many people have you rated complete turn off?”
Since the music after the speed-dating wasn’t that great, Vicki and I stumbled over to Soho, found pizza at about 1am, took a bus going the wrong way from Trafalgar Square, got on a bus going the right way, and got home at 3am. Good night overall, anyway.
Thursday I had to work, as per usual. Instead of someone asking me inappropriate and weird questions though, this week an old toothless black man took a fancy to me.
“You’re pretty,” said old toothless black man.
I hemmed and hawed, blushed a little.
“You have a pretty smile. You should be here more often!” said man who will henceforth be referred to as sweet old man.
Well, I thought it was cute. It was better than the random British guy who groped me my first week in London and when I got offended told me, “I couldn’t help myself, you’re just so attractive!” Flattery will not get you out of that one, buddy.
Again, I met with my seminar group, walking past some Bangladeshi karaoke at SOAS. Best part: Bangladeshi karaoke is not nearly the random event you might assume.
Friday we presented in my seminar, then I slept most of the afternoon, then went to the Arabic party at the International Student House. We were promised belly dancing and shisha and live music. There was all of these things, but the live music was highly politicized and um, not very good. To counter this, we decided to drink tequila. The night picked up after tequila, and we ended up getting to see belly dancing after all and to dance our little feet off. When we got back to Dinwiddy, my friend Leah made us grilled cheese, a tasty treat apparently unknown to British people, and we stayed up and talked til 5am.
Saturday was a wash after that, anyway. I woke up to a text from (Rochester) Leah at 10:30, layed about in bed and read until 2:30, and went back to sleep til 5. An entire waste of a day. I was supposed to meet Leah and Vanessa at 8;15 in Brixton, so I pulled together a gypsy costume, and got on the Tube, realized I needed to top up my Oyster Card, ended up running 10 minutes late anyway. The party was in the basement of a church which was a pretty cool spot, and our only encounter with the fabled Brixton scariness was when a very large, very crazy man came up behind us mumbling. The three of us looked at each other, and simultaneously picked up the pace to the bar. The very large, very crazy man quickly gave up.
Sunday as usual has been lazy. Just went food shopping, bought cake for my French flatmate who finally turned 18, ate homemade cookies, and went to the pub with Trevor and Vicki. Week Five. I can hardly believe it.
posted by shannon at 9:21 PM
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