He played a game with people, though they never knew it. He met their eyes as he walked past, stared them down on the Tube, watched them sip coffee uncomfortably with the tension of someone who can feel foreign eyes.
He always won. Only the rare contender showed any sign of defiance before shamefully recoiling. Often they shifted uncomfortably or overeagerly jumped at their stop, neglecting to look at their merciless victor.
He was proud of his defeats. He was not wealthy or successful, but from Hammersmith to Piccadilly he was king.
But today his prey did not succumb to their king's iron glare. He stood dominant, yet watchful eyes creased into the shape of laughter. Just then a little girl moved by and said, at little too loudly, "Mr. you're fly is down,” lingering on his button-down shirt peaking through his trousers.
From then on he walked to work.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Thursday, January 3, 2008
freezing my flannel pajamas off
5:43 am – London time
Time in the UK: 13 hours, 58 minutes
Time in my new flat: 9 hours
Time asleep: 4 hours 41 minutes
Time helplessly awake despite extraneous efforts to sleep: 1 hour, 46 minutes
Here I am. Finally! I thought I'd write on the plane ride – I had this idea that all the thoughts running though my head about my 5-month stay in London would best be tackled on a 12-hour transatlantic flight. I was wrong. My knees hit the chair in front of me, the passenger of which couldn't stand to waste any opportunity to recline his chair (even during takeoff) and it was unbearably hot. And I had always really enjoyed long flights...getting there is half the fun right?!
Everyone kept telling me how cold London would be, so I had boarded the plane in snow socks and a handful of wool and knit layers...a mistake on many levels. I popped two "Simply Sleep" and kicked back (metaphorically speaking of course. I was packed in so tight I'm relatively certain kicking was a physical impossibility).
My cab fare from Heathrow to my university ("uni" :P) was £48 or essentially, over $100. (My fault, I knew what to expect). But it didn't matter – despite my reflex to cringe up and hug the door of the car every time oncoming traffic passed us on the right or we made a right-hand turn into the far end of the street, I was thrilled to be back.
I settled into my on-campus flat and started to unpack. About six garments later I ran out of hangers and stopped. None of my flatmates were home. I surveyed the place and gathered that there was at least one girl out of the five other bedrooms in my flat and judging from the sparse condiments and flatware in the kitchen, they were all most likely UK students who hadn't returned from their winter break yet.
One big empty flat, all to myself.
I arranged as much as I could, relaxed and set to go to bed early so I could be up in time for orientation breakfast in the morning (8am). The only trouble is I hadn't bothered to pack bedding (instead I made sure I had all the essentials: shoes, sweaters, books and more shoes). Seeing as it was too late to go shopping when I arrived, I figured I'd rough it one night and buy bedding sometime the next day. (And seeing as my flight was surprisingly less comfortable than I remembered, I felt no shame at all in helping myself to one of those cheap, prepackaged airline blankets on my way out the door).
I cuddled up in my flannel, long-sleeve pajamas and wool socks (silently praising my best friend for giving me such a practical Christmas gift). I wrapped my wet post-shower hair in a towel and settled onto a travel pillow I had brought, under my "blanket" (courtesy of Virgin Atlantic).
The heat was on. I was freezing.
I lasted 10 minutes before I jumped up, put on a heavy wool coat and tucked my hair into a knit cap. I laid back down. Still freezing. It wasn't until I used my other heaving winter coat as a blanket and wrapped my legs in the airplane one that I was finally able to fall asleep.
When the heat turned off a few hours later, I woke up – 3:30 am! I made it until 4 before I burst out of bed determined to warm myself up with every sweater I piled on. Only four hours until breakfast...only 3 hours and 56 minutes until breakfast...only 3 hours 55 minutes and 24 second until breakfast!
I called my parents, checked my email, downed a cup on instant coffee made from a one-serving-size paper package I found buried at the bottom of a welcome pack the school had given me. Only 3 hours and 11 minutes until breakfast.
I word to the wise, always pack a blanket. ;)
(Only 1 hour and 32 minutes to breakfast!)
Time in the UK: 13 hours, 58 minutes
Time in my new flat: 9 hours
Time asleep: 4 hours 41 minutes
Time helplessly awake despite extraneous efforts to sleep: 1 hour, 46 minutes
Here I am. Finally! I thought I'd write on the plane ride – I had this idea that all the thoughts running though my head about my 5-month stay in London would best be tackled on a 12-hour transatlantic flight. I was wrong. My knees hit the chair in front of me, the passenger of which couldn't stand to waste any opportunity to recline his chair (even during takeoff) and it was unbearably hot. And I had always really enjoyed long flights...getting there is half the fun right?!
Everyone kept telling me how cold London would be, so I had boarded the plane in snow socks and a handful of wool and knit layers...a mistake on many levels. I popped two "Simply Sleep" and kicked back (metaphorically speaking of course. I was packed in so tight I'm relatively certain kicking was a physical impossibility).
My cab fare from Heathrow to my university ("uni" :P) was £48 or essentially, over $100. (My fault, I knew what to expect). But it didn't matter – despite my reflex to cringe up and hug the door of the car every time oncoming traffic passed us on the right or we made a right-hand turn into the far end of the street, I was thrilled to be back.
I settled into my on-campus flat and started to unpack. About six garments later I ran out of hangers and stopped. None of my flatmates were home. I surveyed the place and gathered that there was at least one girl out of the five other bedrooms in my flat and judging from the sparse condiments and flatware in the kitchen, they were all most likely UK students who hadn't returned from their winter break yet.
One big empty flat, all to myself.
I arranged as much as I could, relaxed and set to go to bed early so I could be up in time for orientation breakfast in the morning (8am). The only trouble is I hadn't bothered to pack bedding (instead I made sure I had all the essentials: shoes, sweaters, books and more shoes). Seeing as it was too late to go shopping when I arrived, I figured I'd rough it one night and buy bedding sometime the next day. (And seeing as my flight was surprisingly less comfortable than I remembered, I felt no shame at all in helping myself to one of those cheap, prepackaged airline blankets on my way out the door).
I cuddled up in my flannel, long-sleeve pajamas and wool socks (silently praising my best friend for giving me such a practical Christmas gift). I wrapped my wet post-shower hair in a towel and settled onto a travel pillow I had brought, under my "blanket" (courtesy of Virgin Atlantic).
The heat was on. I was freezing.
I lasted 10 minutes before I jumped up, put on a heavy wool coat and tucked my hair into a knit cap. I laid back down. Still freezing. It wasn't until I used my other heaving winter coat as a blanket and wrapped my legs in the airplane one that I was finally able to fall asleep.
When the heat turned off a few hours later, I woke up – 3:30 am! I made it until 4 before I burst out of bed determined to warm myself up with every sweater I piled on. Only four hours until breakfast...only 3 hours and 56 minutes until breakfast...only 3 hours 55 minutes and 24 second until breakfast!
I called my parents, checked my email, downed a cup on instant coffee made from a one-serving-size paper package I found buried at the bottom of a welcome pack the school had given me. Only 3 hours and 11 minutes until breakfast.
I word to the wise, always pack a blanket. ;)
(Only 1 hour and 32 minutes to breakfast!)
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