LONDON
Flew in to London today… immediately jumped on the tube to kill the day and float around the middle of town… accidentally missed a stop and landed at Leicester Square… it turns out this was opening night for the big BFI London Film Festival, and I stumbled in to the crowds of cattle lining a red carpet entrance…. after several inquiries to different Christmas-eyed, pre-starstruck gawkers, it was clear nobody really knew what or IF anything was happening… George Clooney or Anthony Hopkins and other guesses were supposed to arrive soon…. but after 15 minutes, I was too wounded from boredom and couldn’t suffer any longer (even for the paparazzi-style photo op) and continued on my happy exploration….

It didn’t seem like I had strayed too far off the beaten path, but at one point, I noticed people were getting friendlier and their eyes were hungrier and I could feel I was getting more attractive by the lusty glances and slow motion, lip-syncing to some imaginary song… a real hero’s welcome!

A gentleman stepped out of the shadows and appeared to have a serious, urgent message for me… some important secret that only I was privileged to hear… he whispered in such a low tone that I couldn’t make out a single word.
I stepped in closer.

ME: “Pardon me, sir?”

GENTLEMAN: [Repeated something inaudible]

I stepped in still closer.

ME: “Sorry?”

GENTLEMAN (in a low, thick, South African accent): “Sexy gurlz?… Titties?… Sexy gurlz?… Any-ting you want…”

ME: “Me no want.” I slowly stepped off the curb, looking to the RIGHT… to find some food and light…

I kept wandering until the night ran out of steam, and made my way back to Heathrow in time for breakfast…