London - Part 4

4. The Second Day

I awoke at a reasonable time. 11 I think, cleaned my room and washed my hair in the sink again. The night before I went to bed starving but I felt only sickish in the morning. I set out for the British museum and found it quickly, before I had expected. I couldn’t bring myself to go in yet so I walked past, telling myself I was searching for breakfast. Still I was too nervous to actually go into any place. I walked in a huge circle passing every café. Too expensive or too crowded I tell myself. At last I turned back towards what I thought was the British Museum and got enough courage to buy a coke, 60p. Prices seem so cheap until you think about them, and then they seem expensive.

I walked on, drinking my coke, expecting to see the British Museum but no luck. Soon I was in the West End. Staring at the Les Miserables theatre I almost got hit by a car. I stepped back too far and just missed getting hit by another. The streets got busier but I restrained panic. I turned down a less busy street and almost walked into a bum. He asked for a few pence and I gave him twenty. “You should be more careful walking alone” he told me. I thanked him but forgot to ask his name.

I walked some more following some Arabs and ended up on Oxford Street. There had been a parade earlier and the street was as packed as Times Square. I put may hand into my wallet pocket and thrust myself into the crowd. I trusted the compass in my nose and headed across Oxford Street in the direction I thought was north. Streets were deserted which made me even more nervous. It was follow the crowd and get pick-pocketed or walk down an alley and get mugged. I found a newsstand advertising phone cards and bought one for ten pounds along with an orangeade drink that was gross and good in alternate sips.

I stopped in a stairwell and nervously pulled out my A-Z. I was afraid to be seen with it. I glanced and tried to orient myself. I put it away and walked down Bond Street, then New Bond Street at last arriving at Grosvenor Square Park. I sat on a bench. Memorized the way back to the Museum with the A-Z, relaxed and had a cigarette. I felt strangely comfortable here. The park was beautiful and British looking but for some reason I felt welcome. Days later on a train I would look up Grosvenor Square park in a book and learn that it was called America in London. Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin had lived nearby. I understood.

After the quick rest I made my way back down Oxford Street. An old lady was yelling for me to get my “Pokemon Bubbles” there were kids all over pulling off Pikachu’s head and blowing bubbles out of his innards. I considered her offer but decided against it.

I saw a phone booth, turned off and called home. It worked well. I didn’t tell my Mom about spending the night in the airport. She seemed disappointed that I hadn’t seen any sights yet. I told her I was having a good time as I stared at a photo plastered to the phone booth wall of the biggest nipples I had ever seen.