Quest #6: How To Get a Date In London

Bonjour! I am borrowing a computer and sitting in my bathroom, truly nothing more than a toilet in a closet, trying to maintain this tenuous internet connection.

I will start by saying I have taken 94 pictures in 7 days; by my math I should be at 84. It might be cheating because I rely on the kid to take pictures of things in an effort to keep my numbers down, but I have had the chance to REALLY see London and Paris, instead of seeing it through the lens of my camera.

Joystealers so far have been my back pain (that dang herniated disc flares up), having no cold water in my shower in London (besides being hot, with no air conditioning, the scalding water forced me to fill my tub and counter the heat with cold water from the sink that I was transferring via a small glass cup), being yelled at by a London cab driver (yes, I was trying to get into the front where I was not allowed to ride, but still) and the worst, my Grandma passing away on Saturday (I anticipated it might happen while I was gone, but it is little consolation). Related to my Grandma, I did cry today while singing, of all songs, Danny Boy... I hope you're laughing with me, it was the second verse where we sing of visiting the grave... and I lit a candle for her at Notre Dame, and while I'm sure she's not overly excited the candle is in a Catholic Church, from my perspective my Mennonite Grandma is highly qualified to be represented in that stunning chapel for a day.

And now the best parts - the laugh out loud moments!

A story well-suited for the blog is the day I decided to go out on my own to Westminster Abbey. It was an adventure getting there, including not having enough pounds and having to walk about an hour with my "mean" face to deter trouble as I walked alone through London. It was a great experience and my hippy world-traveling law school friend will be quite impressed with my adventurous spirit. I went through the church - it was awesome! But on to my story.

I needed to use the restroom. Fun fact: In many places in Europe, you pay to use public restrooms. The restroom I chose was being cleaned by a guy. Whatever, I had to go to the bathroom. So I paid my 50 pence, picked a stall, and prepared to get my money's worth. I realize the toilet paper roll is empty, so I pull it out and the full one falls down... and down... and bounces off my knees... and rolls away under the door!

So here I am, in a foreign bathroom stall in a compromised position, holding one end of the toilet paper and imagining how awkward this must look from the outside. Eventually, the bathroom attendant notices the predicament and hands me the roll under the door. Whew! I finish up and walk out. And the most random thing happens.

The bathroom attendant hits on me. The usual - what's your name, my name is Marcel, you look very nice, how long are you staying in London, etc.

Is it nice to know you've still got it? Rephrased slightly differently, is it nice to know you're getting hit on by a bathroom attendant just moments after getting your 50 pence worth of toilet time, not to mention you can't control bathroom tissue dispensation? I'm not sure what the answer is. After getting over the initial shock that yes, this was actually happening to me, I basically ran out of the bathroom.

And that's how you pick up a date in London.