Day 3
Packed our car once again and headed north on I-5, this time not getting lost. There is a sign along the freeway near San Clemente; it's a picture of a man, woman and child dashing like mad across the road. The sign has always made me chuckle because it looks kinda funny, but I had to wonder why this was the only place I saw this sign. Is this stretch of beach famous for boats pulling up and dropping immigrants off? Looking at both sides of the road, this area is pretty desolate; I can't imagine a whole lot of places to hide and evade the authorities.
Arrived in Anaheim at 11:30am, parked our car and headed directly to Disneyland. Went to Tarzan's treehouse first, and then on to Pirates of the Caribbean. Danielle, our two-year old, didn't like Pirates very much. Lots of dark & lots of loud noises don't jive too well with her. Next was the Haunted Mansion, where my wife took both the older girls with her, and Dani and I paired up. I thought for sure she'd freak on this ride, but she was laughing and clapping her hands. Next was Splash Mountain (Olivia mildly freaking out about getting wet), and then the Winnie the Pooh ride. This sits where the Bear Country Jamboree used to be. Then we rode the Matterhorn, Small World, etc.
McDonald's has concession stands in Disney theme parks, and it costs - no joke - nearly $4.00 for an order of fries. Needless to say, we walked to the McDonald's restaurant across the road from Disneyland and had dinner there. After returning to the hotel, three large tour buses pulled up into the parking lot, and hoards of teenagers poured out. I noticed that the buses were chartered out of Salt Lake, and found out that it was the Layton High School Choir on tour for their spring break. So yes, there was much noise at night, and little sleep because of it. That only lasted for two nights.
Days 4, 5, 6 & 7
There was much bouncing back and forth between the two parks (Magic Kingdom & California Adventure), waiting in lines, buying extremely overpriced food, etc. In California Adventure, McKay and Olivia rode the Grizzly Rapids ride and the Tower of Terror. Olivia, being ever so brave in actually going on these rides, emphatically declared that she would not be joining us for any repeat performances. McKay, however, thrived on the thrill attractions. I think she had bugs splattered on her teeth from smiling so big on the high-speed California Screamer roller coaster. By Thursday morning, we had all experienced a degree of Disney burnout, and decided to leave the park, take naps, then head to the beach for the afternoon. Huntington Beach was fun for all of us, until Dani ran out into the surf on her own and did a faceplant into the sand as the water flowed back from the beach. She had sand up her nose and all over her face, and she was furious. Just to make sure she wouldn't hate the ocean evermore, I carried her in my arms while I walked in the surf. She made happy noises and was quite animated when we would find a cool seashell, or dying insect. Tangent here - I find that Huntington Beach is a bit odd like this. When we visited three years ago, it was thousands upon thousands of tiny lobsters that were washing up on the beach and dying. This time, it was thousands of recently deserted seashells (small clam-like shells still connected in the middle, so it looks like butterfly wings), and thousands of dying bees right next to them. ..?... And the bees and shells are interrelated... how? But I digress. We drove back to Anaheim, and I was struck by the wonder of how people actually afford their lifestyles here in SoCal. Houses in Huntington Beach rent for anything between $2000 to $3000 monthly, and I see this preponderance of nice flashy cars that cost well over $40k, and I wonder.... how do they afford it?
Friday we started out in Magic Kingdom for a few rides, then out to the Rainforest Cafe for lunch, then into the Disney Mega-Store to do some shopping, then into California Adventure for the afternoon, as a small rainstorm parked itself over the park. Out of nowhere, hundreds of rain ponchos suddenly appeared as if people had actually planned on it raining! It reminded me of walking down a road in downtown London near the Metropolitan Art Museum. *Another Tangent Here* The road had been bustling with people walking up and down the sidewalk on their merry way to who knows where. We stopped a few minutes later when we realized there wasn't a soul in sight; everyone had disappeared. Then the rain came. Quite unannounced, it dropped by the bucketful right on top of us. We ran to a canopy a mere thirty feet away, and upon reaching it, were thoroughly soaked. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it moved along to torment some other unsuspecting tourists. The rain in California wasn't quite as nasty, so McKay and I just rode the attractions sans umbrellas or ponchos. The point of the tangent was: When you live in a place long enough, you subconsciously connect with your environment. Most of those people probably felt the humidity in the air and said "Pack the rain poncho!", or they could have just watched the weather report.
We returned to the Magic Kingdom Friday evening after dinner, and watched "Phantasmic" with the kids. After that was over, we went back to the hotel and zonked out, getting ready for the long drive back.
Saturday
After a brief sit in the hot-tub to relax the aching leg and lower back muscles (who knew that walking through Disneyland would be such a cardiovascular & muscular task?), we piled into the car and headed home, stopping briefly here and there for heavily sugared and caffeinated drinks, as well as potty stops. On our lunch break in Barstow, we were sitting in Subway when about 50 teenagers come barreling through the door. I looked up and asked the nearest one "You're not from Layton High School, are you?" "Why YES!" "Um, ..er, right then." It had to be cosmic coincidence that they would come crashing into our little world again.
We made it home several hours later, with little incident. When we arrived, we found out that my wife's flowers - all of which were threatening to bloom just as we left, were indeed in full bloom now, and looked gorgeous. However, just a mere 20 minutes after arriving, our annual gale-force-knock-over-your-fence-and-tear-your-very-roof-off winds started howling. Luckily, the damage was minimal, and only a few of the flowers were shredded this time. Sunday was spent largely sleeping and recovering from the trip until about 5pm, when we discovered McKay had brought back a rather unintended and very undesirable souvenir: Head Lice. The next 5 hours were then spent shampooing, scrubbing, spraying, vacuuming, combing, disinfecting, etc. I need a vacation from my vacation. Feh.
Friday, April 29, 2005
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
The Big Trip, Part 1
The big trip started out at 3:30am, as I rolled out of bed after only 4 1/2 hours of sleep. I carried three little sleeping bodies out and put them into the backs seats of our minivan, silently praising the engineers at Dodge that thought of reclining bench seats. With kids safely secured, we drove away from our house.
Mountain Dew quickly became my new best friend, and was the only thing that kept me awake and alert until one of our tires blew out on the interstate while I was doing about 80mph. After that, there was enough adrenaline in my blood to keep a small third world country running for several days. After spending a few extra, unplanned hours in Cedar City, we again hit the road.
Just outside of Vegas, we announced to the kids that we were going to stop at the Luxor and see the mummy exhibit. McKay, our eight year old, pipes up and relates how her teacher said that mummies were just dead people wrapped up in toilet paper, only that it wasn't real toilet paper. At this point, Olivia, our six-year old chimes in "What about the toilets, are they real?!" Leave it to my kids to completely miss the death culture of an ancient civilization.
After viewing the mummy exhibit, we again hit the road. The next several hours were marked by stopping at Burger King, taking a highway that was supposed to link us up with Interstate 5, but instead, detoured us onto some obscure avenue that again detoured us back to where we originally detoured, getting lost in San Diego at night ("Hey, I lived here when I was six, it shouldn't be too hard to figure out where we are!), and finally arriving at our hotel after asking for directions twice and ending up lost in the naval shipyards (I am not making this up!).
Arriving at our hotel, we were given our room assignment and keys. I pulled the car up, and walked up the stairs to the room, which had the door sitting wide open, with a large duffel bag laying on the bed, and the room's occupant - a rather large black man puffing away on a cigarette outside of the door. Surmising that Mr. Nicotine didn't want a family of five shacking up with him, I returned to the office and was issued another room.
Day 2
Slept in, then drove up Interstate 5 and saw the big white LDS temple just off the side of the freeway. We turned off and took a look. The flower gardens were gorgeous, and there were sister missionaries there to show pictures of the temple's interior to our girls and talk about temples in general. I can't help but think that the temple must have caused a few accidents as people round the corner on the beltway at night and suddenly are looking at this large white shining building that looks like an alien mother ship. After the temple we attended church services, then headed out to Mission Beach to let the girls splash in the ocean. You could immediately classify everyone into one of two categories: There to have a good time and There to be seen. More on that later.
We returned to the hotel and enjoyed a bathtub-warm swimming pool for about an hour, then headed to bed. More tomorrow...
Mountain Dew quickly became my new best friend, and was the only thing that kept me awake and alert until one of our tires blew out on the interstate while I was doing about 80mph. After that, there was enough adrenaline in my blood to keep a small third world country running for several days. After spending a few extra, unplanned hours in Cedar City, we again hit the road.
Just outside of Vegas, we announced to the kids that we were going to stop at the Luxor and see the mummy exhibit. McKay, our eight year old, pipes up and relates how her teacher said that mummies were just dead people wrapped up in toilet paper, only that it wasn't real toilet paper. At this point, Olivia, our six-year old chimes in "What about the toilets, are they real?!" Leave it to my kids to completely miss the death culture of an ancient civilization.
After viewing the mummy exhibit, we again hit the road. The next several hours were marked by stopping at Burger King, taking a highway that was supposed to link us up with Interstate 5, but instead, detoured us onto some obscure avenue that again detoured us back to where we originally detoured, getting lost in San Diego at night ("Hey, I lived here when I was six, it shouldn't be too hard to figure out where we are!), and finally arriving at our hotel after asking for directions twice and ending up lost in the naval shipyards (I am not making this up!).
Arriving at our hotel, we were given our room assignment and keys. I pulled the car up, and walked up the stairs to the room, which had the door sitting wide open, with a large duffel bag laying on the bed, and the room's occupant - a rather large black man puffing away on a cigarette outside of the door. Surmising that Mr. Nicotine didn't want a family of five shacking up with him, I returned to the office and was issued another room.
Day 2
Slept in, then drove up Interstate 5 and saw the big white LDS temple just off the side of the freeway. We turned off and took a look. The flower gardens were gorgeous, and there were sister missionaries there to show pictures of the temple's interior to our girls and talk about temples in general. I can't help but think that the temple must have caused a few accidents as people round the corner on the beltway at night and suddenly are looking at this large white shining building that looks like an alien mother ship. After the temple we attended church services, then headed out to Mission Beach to let the girls splash in the ocean. You could immediately classify everyone into one of two categories: There to have a good time and There to be seen. More on that later.
We returned to the hotel and enjoyed a bathtub-warm swimming pool for about an hour, then headed to bed. More tomorrow...
Monday, April 25, 2005
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...
We are back. In one piece. Well, several pieces actually if you count each piece of luggage and souvenir individually, as well as each person. But we are back, and determined as ever that even though we had a smashing good time, we will not do this again for at least another five years. More to come later when I have time to post...
Friday, April 15, 2005
Big Splash!
That was the sound of a cannonball dive into this trip; it's gonna be great, and I have absolutely no worries. I was going to post a picture today, which would help explain the name of the blog. But, because I have an unbelievable amount of stuff to get done in the next 12 hours, learning Picasa and Hello will have to wait until after California.
On an odd and completely unrelated note: Have you ever tried cleaning up dog turds from your lawn after it has been aerated? The aeration plugs were all the same size, shape and color as our dog's output, and it was like trying to find a needle in a pin factory.
On an odd and completely unrelated note: Have you ever tried cleaning up dog turds from your lawn after it has been aerated? The aeration plugs were all the same size, shape and color as our dog's output, and it was like trying to find a needle in a pin factory.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Impending Vacation... or Doom?
This will be my last chance to post before we leave for our vacation in the wee hours of Saturday morning. Not taking a laptop with me, this blog shall remain post-less for about nine days or so.
We are planning a trip to beautiful Southern California, to enjoy sunny San Diego for a few days, and then north to the obligatory "Several Days of Disney" experience, where we will ride the attractions, eat over-priced food and wait in line until we can't see straight anymore. Here is my concern: knowing my penchant for bad luck, is something going to go horribly wrong?
Some people have the spectre of bad luck follow them around, making their lives generally miserable. Not only do I have "bad luck", but his bastard cousin "catastrophic, horrible luck" is often along for the ride. I have visions or our wrecked, demolished car laying amid a debris field of broken glass, clothes, blood and torn twisted metal on the freeway in central Utah. I figure if there is anywhere I would fall asleep at the wheel, it would be in central Utah. There are places along that stretch of road where the scenery looks the same for literally dozens of miles at a time. Add on top of that the enormous lack of sleep I have been getting lately, and you can see why I'm worried.
In June 2001, the 16-year old daughter of some friends of mine was killed in a head-on collision one evening. January 2002, one of our neighbors is killed in a rollover accident coming home from Arizona. Fall 2003, Another neighbor flips her SUV several times on the freeway, killing her and seriously injuring her husband. I don't imagine any of these people started their day out thinking it was going to be their last.
Hopefully, my anxiety is all for naught, and we will actually have a wonderful time without any complications. I need to quit thinking like this and just cannonball into this vacation!
We are planning a trip to beautiful Southern California, to enjoy sunny San Diego for a few days, and then north to the obligatory "Several Days of Disney" experience, where we will ride the attractions, eat over-priced food and wait in line until we can't see straight anymore. Here is my concern: knowing my penchant for bad luck, is something going to go horribly wrong?
Some people have the spectre of bad luck follow them around, making their lives generally miserable. Not only do I have "bad luck", but his bastard cousin "catastrophic, horrible luck" is often along for the ride. I have visions or our wrecked, demolished car laying amid a debris field of broken glass, clothes, blood and torn twisted metal on the freeway in central Utah. I figure if there is anywhere I would fall asleep at the wheel, it would be in central Utah. There are places along that stretch of road where the scenery looks the same for literally dozens of miles at a time. Add on top of that the enormous lack of sleep I have been getting lately, and you can see why I'm worried.
In June 2001, the 16-year old daughter of some friends of mine was killed in a head-on collision one evening. January 2002, one of our neighbors is killed in a rollover accident coming home from Arizona. Fall 2003, Another neighbor flips her SUV several times on the freeway, killing her and seriously injuring her husband. I don't imagine any of these people started their day out thinking it was going to be their last.
Hopefully, my anxiety is all for naught, and we will actually have a wonderful time without any complications. I need to quit thinking like this and just cannonball into this vacation!
Small of Mind, Large of Bladder
I was listening to the radio today, an apparently there is a study out there proving that lower back pain contributes to brain shrinkage. So, mine should be about the size of a walnut by now, having put up with lower back pain for, like, a zillion years already. My questions:
Which brings me to my second topic. In an attempt to become more physically fit, I am now making several trips daily to the bathroom at the other end of the office. Probably due to the 2 super big gulps of sugar and caffeine rich liquid I consume each day to stay awake (not much sleep at nights). If my brain size and capacity wasn't so diminished by lower back pain, I'd probably have figured out by now that all of that carbonated beverage sloshing around inside of me negates any positive effect sprinting down the hall 10-12 times a day does for me.
- Does your mind shrink if you don't notice the pain?
- Does the shrinkage correlate with pain medication usage, or will that be a separate 80 million-dollar study?
- And why in the name of all that is holy do people throw money by the billions into studies like this? It's almost as bad as the "cow-flatulence contributing to the greenhouse effect" study, or the "studying the barf pellets of the spotted owl" study.
Which brings me to my second topic. In an attempt to become more physically fit, I am now making several trips daily to the bathroom at the other end of the office. Probably due to the 2 super big gulps of sugar and caffeine rich liquid I consume each day to stay awake (not much sleep at nights). If my brain size and capacity wasn't so diminished by lower back pain, I'd probably have figured out by now that all of that carbonated beverage sloshing around inside of me negates any positive effect sprinting down the hall 10-12 times a day does for me.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Musings Of My Twisted Mind...
Things that make me go "Hmmmm...." This page is updated dynamically everytime a random neuron in my brain misfires, and makes me look at something differently.
10-05-2005 - I think I would like to learn Elvish. Seriously, I love listening to Arwen sweet-talk Aragorn in the Lord of the Rings. And the writing? Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.
10-12-2005 - So, what do you get when you hold the special "Star Wars glow-in-the-dark wrapper" version of a Snickers candy bar up to the light? A melted candy bar. Should have seen that one coming.
11-03-2005 - I wonder if people can read my lips through the cars windows as I shout the word "Dipshit" at them?
11-08-2005 - There are two different food groups: Bacon, and everything that is not bacon. There is nothing more delicious than a Bacon Cheeseburger, IMHO.
11-15-2005 - I wish there was a camera out there that could capture what my eyes see in a photo. There is nothing quite like the clouds parting to a sapphire blue sky littered with sparkling stars and a full moon. There's also nothing quite able to catch that in a photograph.
12-16-2005 - My dad was walking in the mall the other night, when he was approached by a man trying to find an exit...
Man: What's the quickest way out of here?
Dad: Aneurysm, I think.
12-19-2005 - Sometimes my dyslexia gets the best of me. I read the headline "Star's death challenges 'West Wing' writers" and what my mind sees is "Death Star challenges 'West Wing' writers", which, wouldn't be much of a challenge, but would be fun to watch.
01-26-2006 - Another dyslexic moment here. Today, as I was driving to work, I spent some time behind a car that had a couple of "Yellowstone National Park" bumper stickers, an oval sticker with "YNP" on it, and a license plate which read "YLSTN". And I thought "Yeltsin? I'm driving behind Boris Yeltsin?! How cool is that?"
I am such a tool sometimes.
02-18-2006 - Gotta work on that mouth of mine. When your car is sliding sideways on the interstate, and you could be seconds away from meeting your maker, your last words probably shouldn't be "shitshitSHITshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit".
03-17-2006 - Driving past the dog food factory actually makes me hungry. Woof.
03-17-2006 - Clicking the car remote at the front door of your house will not cause it to unlock. No matter how many times you try.
05-18-2006 - Also, If you're standing next to your car, clicking your remote at it, and another car in the parking lot is chirping instead, chances are this isn't your car.
05-18-2006 - The phrase "Arrrrgh, ye blimey f*ckers!" always makes me laugh. Being that no one ever says it, I don't laugh much.
05-18-2006 - The danger of a woman with a cell phone: She'll have called the police on you for staring at her too long, and you'll be in cuffs before anyone realizes that you've simply fallen asleep with your eyes open.
Original Comments:
10-05-2005 - I think I would like to learn Elvish. Seriously, I love listening to Arwen sweet-talk Aragorn in the Lord of the Rings. And the writing? Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.
10-12-2005 - So, what do you get when you hold the special "Star Wars glow-in-the-dark wrapper" version of a Snickers candy bar up to the light? A melted candy bar. Should have seen that one coming.
11-03-2005 - I wonder if people can read my lips through the cars windows as I shout the word "Dipshit" at them?
11-08-2005 - There are two different food groups: Bacon, and everything that is not bacon. There is nothing more delicious than a Bacon Cheeseburger, IMHO.
11-15-2005 - I wish there was a camera out there that could capture what my eyes see in a photo. There is nothing quite like the clouds parting to a sapphire blue sky littered with sparkling stars and a full moon. There's also nothing quite able to catch that in a photograph.
12-16-2005 - My dad was walking in the mall the other night, when he was approached by a man trying to find an exit...
Man: What's the quickest way out of here?
Dad: Aneurysm, I think.
12-19-2005 - Sometimes my dyslexia gets the best of me. I read the headline "Star's death challenges 'West Wing' writers" and what my mind sees is "Death Star challenges 'West Wing' writers", which, wouldn't be much of a challenge, but would be fun to watch.
01-26-2006 - Another dyslexic moment here. Today, as I was driving to work, I spent some time behind a car that had a couple of "Yellowstone National Park" bumper stickers, an oval sticker with "YNP" on it, and a license plate which read "YLSTN". And I thought "Yeltsin? I'm driving behind Boris Yeltsin?! How cool is that?"
I am such a tool sometimes.
02-18-2006 - Gotta work on that mouth of mine. When your car is sliding sideways on the interstate, and you could be seconds away from meeting your maker, your last words probably shouldn't be "shitshitSHITshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit".
03-17-2006 - Driving past the dog food factory actually makes me hungry. Woof.
03-17-2006 - Clicking the car remote at the front door of your house will not cause it to unlock. No matter how many times you try.
05-18-2006 - Also, If you're standing next to your car, clicking your remote at it, and another car in the parking lot is chirping instead, chances are this isn't your car.
05-18-2006 - The phrase "Arrrrgh, ye blimey f*ckers!" always makes me laugh. Being that no one ever says it, I don't laugh much.
05-18-2006 - The danger of a woman with a cell phone: She'll have called the police on you for staring at her too long, and you'll be in cuffs before anyone realizes that you've simply fallen asleep with your eyes open.
Original Comments:
Music has gone too far this time
Actually, it's not music's fault. Just the fault of some people who express themselves through music... except they're not musicians. Allow me to relate:
There was a kid in my school when I grew up that liked Rush - a lot. Now there's nothing necessarily wrong with that, but his was an unhealthy obsession. He could only relate to reality through a "Rush" filter. Eventually he added Journey and Survivor to his musical diet for a bit of balance, but in becoming so proficient in living in the world of Rush, he forgot how to relate to the real world, and the people that populate it. He withdrew from public school, and become something of a hermit. I haven't seen him or heard from him for years. Quite sad, I'd say.
Then there was another guy I knew who would only communicate to his girlfriend using U2 lyrics. Okay. Can anyone say "Barf"? But hey, it all falls under our constitutionally-protected right of artistic expression, right? Just like grafitti, pornography, obscene music and hate speech.
Yep, Barf.
There was a kid in my school when I grew up that liked Rush - a lot. Now there's nothing necessarily wrong with that, but his was an unhealthy obsession. He could only relate to reality through a "Rush" filter. Eventually he added Journey and Survivor to his musical diet for a bit of balance, but in becoming so proficient in living in the world of Rush, he forgot how to relate to the real world, and the people that populate it. He withdrew from public school, and become something of a hermit. I haven't seen him or heard from him for years. Quite sad, I'd say.
Then there was another guy I knew who would only communicate to his girlfriend using U2 lyrics. Okay. Can anyone say "Barf"? But hey, it all falls under our constitutionally-protected right of artistic expression, right? Just like grafitti, pornography, obscene music and hate speech.
Yep, Barf.
Cannonball or dip?
Sometimes I will gingerly dip my toe into a pool before getting in. Then I'll pull my toe out, then dip the whole foot in, swish it around for a few seconds, deciding whether or not my own body heat could sufficiently raise the water temperature in the pool to a comfortable level. After deciding that it won't, I wade in anyway. On a normal day, however, I run and jump off the edge, figuring that I'll handle the problem of the icy cold water when I come to it. The shock at impact usually only lasts for a few seconds as all of my nerve endings shriek out in agony and then adjust. It takes less time, and I am enjoying the experience far sooner than the others who inch their way into the water, their meanderings marked by sharp intakes of breath and short yelps. So is this a dip or a cannonball? Time will tell.
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Thank you so very much!
I do not, however, enjoy spam whores leaving automated comments referring myself and my readers back to their tar-baby of a traffic-intensive revenue producing excuse of a blog page.
Therefore, I reserve the right to annihilate any comment left on my site that resembles spam.
If your are sincerely leaving a comment on my site, please personalize it by either commenting specifically about the post, or using my name. I find this just a bit easier than using word verification.
Thank you so very much!
The Foreign Exchange Trip: 1986
The Bad Haircut
It was a really, really bad haircut. This is where I most effectively learned about communications breakdown. It was during my transition from "Rocker" to "New-Waver". I was shelving my Def Leppard, Rush, Journey, Survivor, Foreigner and Scorpions tapes for groups like Alphaville, Berlin, The Thompson Twins, Thomas Dolby and others.
Along with the music change came the wardrobe change (I won't even begin talking about that one), and inevitably the hairstyle change. There is now no photographic evidence of my "Rocker" hair stage, which consisted of straight, greasy shoulder length hair *shudders*.
My choice of hairstyles was the spiky-gel look. You need to remember that this was the era when "Top Gun" was all the rage, and I absolutely loved Val Kilmer's hairstyle in that one: The flat top with the frosted tips in front. Since one of my "punk friends" raved and raved about a place called Mediterranean Hair Salons, I decided that this must be the Panacea of all haircut places, and was quick to travel 30 minutes away from home to put my hair in the hands of the cosmetology gods at Mediterranean. This is where the problems really start.
I called up the salon, described exactly what I wanted - twice - and they set me up with their "flat-top specialist". The day of the appointment comes, and I show up at the place. It's kind of a hole-in-the-wall dive, located in the Sugarhouse district in Salt Lake. I wait. And wait. And wait. And then they tell me that my stylist is having car problems. Then, when I'm just about ready to leave, she pulls up in this old clunker of a car that must have been at least fifteen years old if it was a day. She comes in, and we get started.
Again, I repeat exactly what I want... multiple times, just because I want it to be just perfect. She kind of does that "Mmmmm-hmmmm" thing where she pretends like she's listening, but really isn't. I'm now becoming quite alarmed at the amount of hair that is no longer on my head, and I ask her about it ("Oh, I'm sorry...what were you saying?"). She must have gotten the part about the crown being slightly longer, because what I ended up with was about a quarter-inch buzz-cut all over my head, except for a small patch right up front, which was about an inch and a half long.
I was all seriously WTF???!!! Oh, and then she bleached the long part, and charged me $30 for the bleaching. I was amazed. I paid $40 for that haircut, and I looked like I belonged to a British punk group. Which wasn't really the look I was shootin' for there, Tex!
I paid the lady, swearing never to trust what little remained of my hair to anyone who claimed to be a flat-top expert. Ever. Again.
I immediately went to the local department store, where I bought a hat that I wore for most of the trip, ashamed and embarrassed at my near baldness.
My dad and his wife actually liked the haircut, which was another red flag that the whole thing had gone terribly wrong. Only one week to go before leaving, and I was at a loss. Well yeah, quite a bit lost, actually.
Missing Depeche Mode
I had waited all year for this concert, only to miss it by a mere eight hours. Let me introduce you to my luck; you will meet it again and again on my blog.
Early on, it became painfully clear that the concert I had most wanted to attend was going to be upstaged - if only barely - by the foreign exchange trip to Courchevel, France. We would miss the concert by just a few hours.
I watched as other friends would drive to Salt Lake and purchase their concert tickets, coming back with their faces aglow, gripping the tickets as if a trophy. Yeah guys, here's a bottle of lemon juice and a salt shaker. Just go to town on my wounds, eh?
I doubt any other person who went on that trip can even remember our departure date from Salt Lake City International. I do. It was approximately 11:00am, July 3rd 1986. That may or may not have something to do with extensive emotional scarring.
The Trip Over
"Oh, it's a big pretty white plane with a red stripe, curtains at the windows, wheels, and it just looks like a big Tylenol!" - Airplane!
There really wasn't much more to tell than that. We took off, we flew across America, noting the beautiful crop patterns in the midwest. We landed at JFK. We sprinted from the domestic concourses to the international concourses, boarded another plane. Wheezed and panted alot. This was just a few months after Virgin Records launched their own airline, complete with a large red heart painted on it. Somebody remarked "Look! It's a plane with a heart on." Don't think about how it's spelled as much as what it sounds like. We also noticed a sleek white Concorde parked a few spaces down.
Once we were in the air, I would listen to my walkman, occasionally stare out the window at the receding sunlight, and watched it until it faded into pinks and purples, then into a slim band of medium blue, where it remained until a few hours later it started turning into pinks and oranges, and before you know it, the sun has come up again. Evil trick to play on someone, really. Put them on a plane and waste an entire day of their lives. But hey, we were young; with the right amount of sugar and caffeine, we could handle anything.
We landed at Heathrow shortly after 10:00am, and after passing through customs, claiming our baggage, and finding the right bus, we were off to the Park International Hotel. The bus let us off at our stop, at which time, we had to walk, like, three blocks to get to the hotel. Three blocks may not seem like a whole lot, but when you walk it, carrying a 40lb bag, operating on exactly no sleep for the past 28 hours, it rather feels like you've hiked halfway up Everest.
The Park International Hotel
You would think with a name like "Park International Hotel" that we would end up in a nice, towering, modern hotel. "International", however, seemed to only refer to their staff, which was made up entirely of people from India and the Middle East. It seems that elevators in Europe are more of an afterthought than anything, and that the terms "spacious" and "elevator" seem to be entirely unrelated on their side of the Atlantic. The lift in this hotel could easily accomodate maybe a single leg, or a purse. A small dog, perhaps.
Rather than wait at the line that was forming at the obscenely small and slow steel box that carted people between floors, Mark and I made use of the stairwell. Our room was on the third floor. Again, with the luggage and exhaustion, it seemed rather like scaling the Matterhorn. But we got to our room before the elevator had even reached the second floor.
In our room, we had two beds, an alarm clock, a telephone, and a spacious bathroom that had a bathtub, and a handheld shower thingy, but no shower curtain. Result: Any time we attempted to take a shower (in a laying down position), we inevitable ended up with about an inch of water on the floor. Good thing we were only there for a week. We threw our luggage down and crashed on the beds, only to be rudely awakened by something that resembled a blaring klaxon horn.
If any of you have ever been jarred awake from a deep sleep, you know that it takes a few minutes to gain control of your arms, your mouth, and your thought processes in general. So this blaring noise kept repeating itself, while I wildly flailed my arms everywhere and screamed gibberish at Mark who was trying to figure out just exactly where he was. I picked up the alarm clock and held it to my ear. It wasn't making the sound. For some reason I shook the clock, and then held it up to my ear again, as if that would change things. Suddenly, both Mark and I gained lucidity and immediately turned our attention to the telephone, which was making the horrid sound. I answered it. It was one of the adult chaperones saying that a small group of them was heading out to see some of the sights, and ded we want to go with them? We declined, opting for a few more hours of precious sleep.
Sometime around 5:00pm, we awakened to the peaceful sounds of an ambulance blaring its way down the road. Our bodies, having satisfied their demands for sleep had now turned their attention to another necessity: Food.
We left the hotel, went down to the foreign exchange and cashed some money in. European money was soooo much cooler than the plain green stuff that we had at home... so much more colorful. The one thing I could never get used to in London was the crosswalks. "Look Right" was spray painted on the road at the end of the crosswalk. I would see that and look up at the last second, only to see that i was about to be mowed down by some speeding cab driver.
We took the London Underground from the Kensington High Street station, and ended up in Piccadilly Circus. We exited the underground, and one of the first things we noticed when we reached street level was the Mrs. Fields Cookie store on the corner. It was a nerdy thing to do, but as Mrs. Fields was based in our home town of Park City, we felt obligated to go in and buy some cookies. We found much to our pleasure that the wax paper pouch (in which they give you the cookies) had the Park City, Utah corporate address printed on it. We bragged about it to the British staff, who not only looked unimpressed, but rather like they wanted to bludgeon us to death just to wipe the smirk off of our faces.
We took our leave of Mrs. Fields, and wandered around the city, taking in some of the sites. My single biggest regret to this day, is that I never developed most of the film that I took on the trip. You have to understand that my family was "feast or famine" financially, and that at most times, it was more the "famine" variety. And yet, we lived in a $300,000 Deer Valley condo. It boggles the mind.
We happened to be passing by the Hard Rock Cafe when we noticed some other students in the group standing in line. So, we butted in with them, much to the dismay of dozens of English patrons, who gave us nasty looks. Once in, they were having "two-fer" specials, as a way of celebrating the day that they "got rid of the Yanks". I bought a t-shirt, which I still have to this day...somewhere. I think my girls use it as a nightshirt.
One of the nights, a bunch of the others in the group went out to hit the bars and taverns, as there seemed to be no age restriction on drinking over there. There was just one thing on the mind of the guys and girls alike that evening: Beer. Oh, and porn too. Some of the guys came back with some euro-porn magazines that made Playboy or Penthouse look as innocent as a cookbook. I opted to remain at the hotel, and as part of it was being renovated, I set out to explore that part.
I've always had that sort of curiosity to explore... particularly in places that are closed to the public. I found a cool room on the fifth floor that had its windows wide open, so I sat on the rather wide window ledge and drank in the sights and sounds of London. This room was on the backside of the hotel, turned toward the inside of the block, so I had a view of the backside of a bunch of other buildings with open windows. I could see people watching TV, I could hear people playing music, the occasional yell coming from one apartment or another, dogs..cats...the sounds of traffic... I fell in love with London that night, and wished that I didn't have to leave.
The Things We Did: London
Tower of London
When we went on the Tower of London tour, I remember a lot of old things behind glass. It all started looking the same after a while. Then I remember them taking us to the place where they would do the public executions, most notably of which (in my eyes at the time) was Anne Bolyn. I had just seen a history special a few months earlier called "Anne of a Thosand Days." The most memorable point in the show was when the axe fell, and the camera switches immediately to a four or five year old girl looking over toward the tower. The girl was Elizabeth - Anne's daughter, the future queen of England. But yes, the decapitation jokes (most of them awful, none of them memorable) were a-plenty.
Big Ben & Parliament
I know that we went to see Big Ben and Parliament. But for the life of me, I can't really remember much of the experience. This non-drug-induced high came over me the moment we stepped off the plane, as I was enamoured to be in a place that had such a great history, and a lot of what I saw sort of blended together.
Westminster Abbey
I remember going to Westminster Abbey and seeing the graves of the famous people in the floors, and in the walls. I remember some people doing brass rubbings of some of the graves. My parents did some brass rubbings when they went to England in 1980, and I have those in my basement right now.
Changing of the Palace Guard
Mark and I decided we would make our way over to Buckingham Palace to take pictures of the palace itself, maybe one or two of the Beefeaters. We did get there in time for the "Changing of the Palace Guard" ceremony. That was cool. A lot of pomp and circumstance involved.
Piccadilly Circus / London Trocadero
We spent some time in Piccadilly Circus and the Trocadero, doing some shopping, eating and hanging around. I wanted to try some English fish & chips. This is where I learned to really dislike English fish & chips. The chips were okay, but I was imagining that the fish was going to be battered and deep fried. This place basically cleaned the fish of bones and guts, then fried the meat that was left over - scales on the outside and all. Umm, yuck.
We went to see the Ripley's "Believe It Or Not" Museum. I had read "Believe It Or Not" books at my grandparents' house for years, so I totally dug the place. Outside at night, there was a bagpiper on the sidewalk playing for donations. I tried to take a picture of him, but he turned around and wouldn't face me because I hadn't give him money. Cheapskate. Maybe he believed that my camera would steal his soul or something.
Spiral Museum
One of the days, a bunch of us were out walking down a busy street, looking to see a few more sights, when we noticed that the street was no longer busy. In fact, it was absolutely deserted. No sooner did be do the proverbial "Huh" than a thunderclap sounded over our head, and sheets of water started pouring.
We were in the process of crossing the road at the time, and it was maybe 30 feet to the nearest building overhang. We were all completely drenched to the bone in just the few seconds that it took to sprint that 30 feet. We were standing next to some sort of museum that was shaped like a large corkscrew, so we all went in to take a look around.
Topless bar
On one of the nights, I wanted to go out and find a ham and cheese sandwich. We decided to join up with a bunch of the others who were heading downtown around dinner time. An eighth grader named Matt was leading the group, and he had an evil glint in his eye. I would occasionally stop to check out menus, and was doing so when a large man standing next to a stairway yelled out to the kid standing next to me "Hey, Freddy! Get your ass over here!"
Seeing that the rest of the group was disappearing down the stairwell, Freddy and I followed suit. They had a menu posted at the bottom of the stairs, but everything seemed so expensive.
And then I knew why.
Matt, all wild-eyed and excited was spouting off something about getting us into a titty bar. I turned to the large man who had ushered us down. "Why hallo, Mr. Bouncer. Aren't you supposed to be keeping kids like us OUT of places like this?" He just smirked.
About the only thing on the menu I was going to order was a coke. We were seated, and a lovely brunette came and sat down with us and kept us company. And then Matt (Mr. I-Just-Don't-Know-When-To-Stop) started asking her questions about when she was going to take her shirt off. She chuckled under her breath. This is going to be good, I thought.
Then in a very sweet tone of voice she explained the rules of a topless bar to Matt, which in the end left no doubt as to how much it would cost, and that Matt was a complete dolt. Tops can't come off until after 10:00pm, and her rate: $120 per hour (roughly 60 quid), and whether you were there 1 minute or 60, we owed her $120. We? When did this turn into WE? But Matt had to prove that his single brain cell wasn't just lonely, it was missing altogether: So, he says "Who wants to hang out til 10:00 and feel some titty?" We paid up and left. The most expensive coke I have ever had, and I was still hungry.
Drunken Teens
One of the disgusting by-products of being around people who can't handle their liquor is to watch them make perfect jackasses out of themselves. Case in Point: Boy likes Girl, but doesn't let on to anybody about it. Each time Boy get's drunk, he turns into this boobing idiot who cries and cries about how much he wants Girl. Every time. Oh, and Boy also gets photographed doing stunts like peeing out of the second story window. This attraction was free, and took place quite often, as Boy was wont to drink quite often.
Cambridge
During our stay in London, Mark and I hopped on a train and travelled northward to Cambridge. Some of the younger kids who were really into tennis caught a train out to Wimbledon that same day.
For those of you thoroughly unacquainted with Cambridge, it is the college setting for the film "Chariots of Fire". It is the largest university in the UK, comprising over thirty different colleges. The University of Cambridge has been around for over 800 years, making all of our marbled and historic stone buildings on the east coast look shiny, sparkling new.
The train ride to Cambridge was relaxing, and probably only took an hour or two. I watched the landscape of gently rolling hills covered with green fields and ancient rock walls go by as the train made its way to our destination. Having the urge to relieve my bladder, I ducked into the toilet room on the train. Upon flushing the commode, I found that the toilet dumped directly onto the tracks below.
Have you ever had one of those weird metaphysical moments where about twenty minutes worth of horrified thoughts hit you all simultaneously? My mind instantly raced back to every time that I had ever walked along a set of railroad tracks. Oh.... My.... #$^#^&!
This startling revelation did not, however, diminish my appetite (at least not for very long), as we stopped by a street vendor's cart in Cambridge and bought a Beefburger. And all I can say is... Wow. It was the tastiest, most delectable burger I have ever had - even to this day (19 years later). Although, I must confess that the Bleu Bacon Burger at The Training Table (Utah), and the Bacon Cheeseburger at Apollo Burger (Utah) do come in at close second and third.
We toured some of the old buildings and cathedrals there. It would take 3-4 years before I would realize that John Rutter and his Cambridge Singers were right there! Every song of his that I have ever sung in a choir, I have totally loved. Great music, man.
We hopped on the train and headed home, me being careful to avoid the privy this time.
Leaving London
It was with a certain degree of melancholy that I left London... I had truly fallen in love with the city, and had I been independently wealthy, and of legal age, I probably would have just stayed. This time, instead of having to pack our luggage for several blocks, the tour bus pulled right up in front of the hotel. We loaded our luggage, and were off. I watched the urban landscape melt into suburbs, then the occasional field and pasture would appear, until eventually the scenery was all rolling, verdant pastures, dotted with the occasional farmhouse. We were going to Dover.
The English Channel
On arriving at Dover, we saw the famous chalk-white cliffs that Dover is known for. How would we be crossing the channel? Is that underground train built yet? Is there a ferry boat? How about a... oh hey, what the hell is that thing?
This huge, noisy thing that was roughly the size of an office building attached to what looked like a huge inner tube, with four huge propellers was racing across the bay, heading straight at us. Thinking that it would pull up to a dock, like all of the other boats, I was a bit surprised when this huge thing came zooming straight up out of the water on a concrete ramp, and parked probably 100 yards away from us. Did I mention the noise? This Hovercraft was easily noisier than a 747.
We boarded, got strapped in, and the whole thing rumbled and shook as the air cushion reinflated, and then the hovercraft lurched forward into the channel and cruised across the water at an amazing rate of speed... and bumpiness. I had really wanted to take pictures, but all of the windows were covered by the spray that the huge propeller engines kicked up. We landed at Calais some thirty minutes later and crossed through the french customs checkpoint.
Going to Paris
The only thing I really remember about this is a long, long bus ride... where I got a bit car sick... or bus sick, as the case may be. I think I started perking up a bit on the outskirts of Paris. I just wanted to get out so bad... to get a drink, walk around and explore...
Paris: The Things We Saw
The Laundromat
Leaving Paris
The TGV
Arriving in Courchevel
The Parting of Ways
The Hotel Lac Bleu
The Altiport
Courchevel: The Things We Saw
Courchevel: The Things We Did
Sophie
Going Home
It was a really, really bad haircut. This is where I most effectively learned about communications breakdown. It was during my transition from "Rocker" to "New-Waver". I was shelving my Def Leppard, Rush, Journey, Survivor, Foreigner and Scorpions tapes for groups like Alphaville, Berlin, The Thompson Twins, Thomas Dolby and others.
Along with the music change came the wardrobe change (I won't even begin talking about that one), and inevitably the hairstyle change. There is now no photographic evidence of my "Rocker" hair stage, which consisted of straight, greasy shoulder length hair *shudders*.
My choice of hairstyles was the spiky-gel look. You need to remember that this was the era when "Top Gun" was all the rage, and I absolutely loved Val Kilmer's hairstyle in that one: The flat top with the frosted tips in front. Since one of my "punk friends" raved and raved about a place called Mediterranean Hair Salons, I decided that this must be the Panacea of all haircut places, and was quick to travel 30 minutes away from home to put my hair in the hands of the cosmetology gods at Mediterranean. This is where the problems really start.
I called up the salon, described exactly what I wanted - twice - and they set me up with their "flat-top specialist". The day of the appointment comes, and I show up at the place. It's kind of a hole-in-the-wall dive, located in the Sugarhouse district in Salt Lake. I wait. And wait. And wait. And then they tell me that my stylist is having car problems. Then, when I'm just about ready to leave, she pulls up in this old clunker of a car that must have been at least fifteen years old if it was a day. She comes in, and we get started.
Again, I repeat exactly what I want... multiple times, just because I want it to be just perfect. She kind of does that "Mmmmm-hmmmm" thing where she pretends like she's listening, but really isn't. I'm now becoming quite alarmed at the amount of hair that is no longer on my head, and I ask her about it ("Oh, I'm sorry...what were you saying?"). She must have gotten the part about the crown being slightly longer, because what I ended up with was about a quarter-inch buzz-cut all over my head, except for a small patch right up front, which was about an inch and a half long.
I was all seriously WTF???!!! Oh, and then she bleached the long part, and charged me $30 for the bleaching. I was amazed. I paid $40 for that haircut, and I looked like I belonged to a British punk group. Which wasn't really the look I was shootin' for there, Tex!
I paid the lady, swearing never to trust what little remained of my hair to anyone who claimed to be a flat-top expert. Ever. Again.
I immediately went to the local department store, where I bought a hat that I wore for most of the trip, ashamed and embarrassed at my near baldness.
My dad and his wife actually liked the haircut, which was another red flag that the whole thing had gone terribly wrong. Only one week to go before leaving, and I was at a loss. Well yeah, quite a bit lost, actually.
Missing Depeche Mode
I had waited all year for this concert, only to miss it by a mere eight hours. Let me introduce you to my luck; you will meet it again and again on my blog.
Early on, it became painfully clear that the concert I had most wanted to attend was going to be upstaged - if only barely - by the foreign exchange trip to Courchevel, France. We would miss the concert by just a few hours.
I watched as other friends would drive to Salt Lake and purchase their concert tickets, coming back with their faces aglow, gripping the tickets as if a trophy. Yeah guys, here's a bottle of lemon juice and a salt shaker. Just go to town on my wounds, eh?
I doubt any other person who went on that trip can even remember our departure date from Salt Lake City International. I do. It was approximately 11:00am, July 3rd 1986. That may or may not have something to do with extensive emotional scarring.
The Trip Over
"Oh, it's a big pretty white plane with a red stripe, curtains at the windows, wheels, and it just looks like a big Tylenol!" - Airplane!
There really wasn't much more to tell than that. We took off, we flew across America, noting the beautiful crop patterns in the midwest. We landed at JFK. We sprinted from the domestic concourses to the international concourses, boarded another plane. Wheezed and panted alot. This was just a few months after Virgin Records launched their own airline, complete with a large red heart painted on it. Somebody remarked "Look! It's a plane with a heart on." Don't think about how it's spelled as much as what it sounds like. We also noticed a sleek white Concorde parked a few spaces down.
Once we were in the air, I would listen to my walkman, occasionally stare out the window at the receding sunlight, and watched it until it faded into pinks and purples, then into a slim band of medium blue, where it remained until a few hours later it started turning into pinks and oranges, and before you know it, the sun has come up again. Evil trick to play on someone, really. Put them on a plane and waste an entire day of their lives. But hey, we were young; with the right amount of sugar and caffeine, we could handle anything.
We landed at Heathrow shortly after 10:00am, and after passing through customs, claiming our baggage, and finding the right bus, we were off to the Park International Hotel. The bus let us off at our stop, at which time, we had to walk, like, three blocks to get to the hotel. Three blocks may not seem like a whole lot, but when you walk it, carrying a 40lb bag, operating on exactly no sleep for the past 28 hours, it rather feels like you've hiked halfway up Everest.
The Park International Hotel
You would think with a name like "Park International Hotel" that we would end up in a nice, towering, modern hotel. "International", however, seemed to only refer to their staff, which was made up entirely of people from India and the Middle East. It seems that elevators in Europe are more of an afterthought than anything, and that the terms "spacious" and "elevator" seem to be entirely unrelated on their side of the Atlantic. The lift in this hotel could easily accomodate maybe a single leg, or a purse. A small dog, perhaps.
Rather than wait at the line that was forming at the obscenely small and slow steel box that carted people between floors, Mark and I made use of the stairwell. Our room was on the third floor. Again, with the luggage and exhaustion, it seemed rather like scaling the Matterhorn. But we got to our room before the elevator had even reached the second floor.
In our room, we had two beds, an alarm clock, a telephone, and a spacious bathroom that had a bathtub, and a handheld shower thingy, but no shower curtain. Result: Any time we attempted to take a shower (in a laying down position), we inevitable ended up with about an inch of water on the floor. Good thing we were only there for a week. We threw our luggage down and crashed on the beds, only to be rudely awakened by something that resembled a blaring klaxon horn.
If any of you have ever been jarred awake from a deep sleep, you know that it takes a few minutes to gain control of your arms, your mouth, and your thought processes in general. So this blaring noise kept repeating itself, while I wildly flailed my arms everywhere and screamed gibberish at Mark who was trying to figure out just exactly where he was. I picked up the alarm clock and held it to my ear. It wasn't making the sound. For some reason I shook the clock, and then held it up to my ear again, as if that would change things. Suddenly, both Mark and I gained lucidity and immediately turned our attention to the telephone, which was making the horrid sound. I answered it. It was one of the adult chaperones saying that a small group of them was heading out to see some of the sights, and ded we want to go with them? We declined, opting for a few more hours of precious sleep.
Sometime around 5:00pm, we awakened to the peaceful sounds of an ambulance blaring its way down the road. Our bodies, having satisfied their demands for sleep had now turned their attention to another necessity: Food.
We left the hotel, went down to the foreign exchange and cashed some money in. European money was soooo much cooler than the plain green stuff that we had at home... so much more colorful. The one thing I could never get used to in London was the crosswalks. "Look Right" was spray painted on the road at the end of the crosswalk. I would see that and look up at the last second, only to see that i was about to be mowed down by some speeding cab driver.
We took the London Underground from the Kensington High Street station, and ended up in Piccadilly Circus. We exited the underground, and one of the first things we noticed when we reached street level was the Mrs. Fields Cookie store on the corner. It was a nerdy thing to do, but as Mrs. Fields was based in our home town of Park City, we felt obligated to go in and buy some cookies. We found much to our pleasure that the wax paper pouch (in which they give you the cookies) had the Park City, Utah corporate address printed on it. We bragged about it to the British staff, who not only looked unimpressed, but rather like they wanted to bludgeon us to death just to wipe the smirk off of our faces.
We took our leave of Mrs. Fields, and wandered around the city, taking in some of the sites. My single biggest regret to this day, is that I never developed most of the film that I took on the trip. You have to understand that my family was "feast or famine" financially, and that at most times, it was more the "famine" variety. And yet, we lived in a $300,000 Deer Valley condo. It boggles the mind.
We happened to be passing by the Hard Rock Cafe when we noticed some other students in the group standing in line. So, we butted in with them, much to the dismay of dozens of English patrons, who gave us nasty looks. Once in, they were having "two-fer" specials, as a way of celebrating the day that they "got rid of the Yanks". I bought a t-shirt, which I still have to this day...somewhere. I think my girls use it as a nightshirt.
One of the nights, a bunch of the others in the group went out to hit the bars and taverns, as there seemed to be no age restriction on drinking over there. There was just one thing on the mind of the guys and girls alike that evening: Beer. Oh, and porn too. Some of the guys came back with some euro-porn magazines that made Playboy or Penthouse look as innocent as a cookbook. I opted to remain at the hotel, and as part of it was being renovated, I set out to explore that part.
I've always had that sort of curiosity to explore... particularly in places that are closed to the public. I found a cool room on the fifth floor that had its windows wide open, so I sat on the rather wide window ledge and drank in the sights and sounds of London. This room was on the backside of the hotel, turned toward the inside of the block, so I had a view of the backside of a bunch of other buildings with open windows. I could see people watching TV, I could hear people playing music, the occasional yell coming from one apartment or another, dogs..cats...the sounds of traffic... I fell in love with London that night, and wished that I didn't have to leave.
The Things We Did: London
Tower of London
When we went on the Tower of London tour, I remember a lot of old things behind glass. It all started looking the same after a while. Then I remember them taking us to the place where they would do the public executions, most notably of which (in my eyes at the time) was Anne Bolyn. I had just seen a history special a few months earlier called "Anne of a Thosand Days." The most memorable point in the show was when the axe fell, and the camera switches immediately to a four or five year old girl looking over toward the tower. The girl was Elizabeth - Anne's daughter, the future queen of England. But yes, the decapitation jokes (most of them awful, none of them memorable) were a-plenty.
Big Ben & Parliament
I know that we went to see Big Ben and Parliament. But for the life of me, I can't really remember much of the experience. This non-drug-induced high came over me the moment we stepped off the plane, as I was enamoured to be in a place that had such a great history, and a lot of what I saw sort of blended together.
Westminster Abbey
I remember going to Westminster Abbey and seeing the graves of the famous people in the floors, and in the walls. I remember some people doing brass rubbings of some of the graves. My parents did some brass rubbings when they went to England in 1980, and I have those in my basement right now.
Changing of the Palace Guard
Mark and I decided we would make our way over to Buckingham Palace to take pictures of the palace itself, maybe one or two of the Beefeaters. We did get there in time for the "Changing of the Palace Guard" ceremony. That was cool. A lot of pomp and circumstance involved.
Piccadilly Circus / London Trocadero
We spent some time in Piccadilly Circus and the Trocadero, doing some shopping, eating and hanging around. I wanted to try some English fish & chips. This is where I learned to really dislike English fish & chips. The chips were okay, but I was imagining that the fish was going to be battered and deep fried. This place basically cleaned the fish of bones and guts, then fried the meat that was left over - scales on the outside and all. Umm, yuck.
We went to see the Ripley's "Believe It Or Not" Museum. I had read "Believe It Or Not" books at my grandparents' house for years, so I totally dug the place. Outside at night, there was a bagpiper on the sidewalk playing for donations. I tried to take a picture of him, but he turned around and wouldn't face me because I hadn't give him money. Cheapskate. Maybe he believed that my camera would steal his soul or something.
Spiral Museum
One of the days, a bunch of us were out walking down a busy street, looking to see a few more sights, when we noticed that the street was no longer busy. In fact, it was absolutely deserted. No sooner did be do the proverbial "Huh" than a thunderclap sounded over our head, and sheets of water started pouring.
We were in the process of crossing the road at the time, and it was maybe 30 feet to the nearest building overhang. We were all completely drenched to the bone in just the few seconds that it took to sprint that 30 feet. We were standing next to some sort of museum that was shaped like a large corkscrew, so we all went in to take a look around.
Topless bar
On one of the nights, I wanted to go out and find a ham and cheese sandwich. We decided to join up with a bunch of the others who were heading downtown around dinner time. An eighth grader named Matt was leading the group, and he had an evil glint in his eye. I would occasionally stop to check out menus, and was doing so when a large man standing next to a stairway yelled out to the kid standing next to me "Hey, Freddy! Get your ass over here!"
Seeing that the rest of the group was disappearing down the stairwell, Freddy and I followed suit. They had a menu posted at the bottom of the stairs, but everything seemed so expensive.
And then I knew why.
Matt, all wild-eyed and excited was spouting off something about getting us into a titty bar. I turned to the large man who had ushered us down. "Why hallo, Mr. Bouncer. Aren't you supposed to be keeping kids like us OUT of places like this?" He just smirked.
About the only thing on the menu I was going to order was a coke. We were seated, and a lovely brunette came and sat down with us and kept us company. And then Matt (Mr. I-Just-Don't-Know-When-To-Stop) started asking her questions about when she was going to take her shirt off. She chuckled under her breath. This is going to be good, I thought.
Then in a very sweet tone of voice she explained the rules of a topless bar to Matt, which in the end left no doubt as to how much it would cost, and that Matt was a complete dolt. Tops can't come off until after 10:00pm, and her rate: $120 per hour (roughly 60 quid), and whether you were there 1 minute or 60, we owed her $120. We? When did this turn into WE? But Matt had to prove that his single brain cell wasn't just lonely, it was missing altogether: So, he says "Who wants to hang out til 10:00 and feel some titty?" We paid up and left. The most expensive coke I have ever had, and I was still hungry.
Drunken Teens
One of the disgusting by-products of being around people who can't handle their liquor is to watch them make perfect jackasses out of themselves. Case in Point: Boy likes Girl, but doesn't let on to anybody about it. Each time Boy get's drunk, he turns into this boobing idiot who cries and cries about how much he wants Girl. Every time. Oh, and Boy also gets photographed doing stunts like peeing out of the second story window. This attraction was free, and took place quite often, as Boy was wont to drink quite often.
Cambridge
During our stay in London, Mark and I hopped on a train and travelled northward to Cambridge. Some of the younger kids who were really into tennis caught a train out to Wimbledon that same day.
For those of you thoroughly unacquainted with Cambridge, it is the college setting for the film "Chariots of Fire". It is the largest university in the UK, comprising over thirty different colleges. The University of Cambridge has been around for over 800 years, making all of our marbled and historic stone buildings on the east coast look shiny, sparkling new.
The train ride to Cambridge was relaxing, and probably only took an hour or two. I watched the landscape of gently rolling hills covered with green fields and ancient rock walls go by as the train made its way to our destination. Having the urge to relieve my bladder, I ducked into the toilet room on the train. Upon flushing the commode, I found that the toilet dumped directly onto the tracks below.
Have you ever had one of those weird metaphysical moments where about twenty minutes worth of horrified thoughts hit you all simultaneously? My mind instantly raced back to every time that I had ever walked along a set of railroad tracks. Oh.... My.... #$^#^&!
This startling revelation did not, however, diminish my appetite (at least not for very long), as we stopped by a street vendor's cart in Cambridge and bought a Beefburger. And all I can say is... Wow. It was the tastiest, most delectable burger I have ever had - even to this day (19 years later). Although, I must confess that the Bleu Bacon Burger at The Training Table (Utah), and the Bacon Cheeseburger at Apollo Burger (Utah) do come in at close second and third.
We toured some of the old buildings and cathedrals there. It would take 3-4 years before I would realize that John Rutter and his Cambridge Singers were right there! Every song of his that I have ever sung in a choir, I have totally loved. Great music, man.
We hopped on the train and headed home, me being careful to avoid the privy this time.
Leaving London
It was with a certain degree of melancholy that I left London... I had truly fallen in love with the city, and had I been independently wealthy, and of legal age, I probably would have just stayed. This time, instead of having to pack our luggage for several blocks, the tour bus pulled right up in front of the hotel. We loaded our luggage, and were off. I watched the urban landscape melt into suburbs, then the occasional field and pasture would appear, until eventually the scenery was all rolling, verdant pastures, dotted with the occasional farmhouse. We were going to Dover.
The English Channel
On arriving at Dover, we saw the famous chalk-white cliffs that Dover is known for. How would we be crossing the channel? Is that underground train built yet? Is there a ferry boat? How about a... oh hey, what the hell is that thing?
This huge, noisy thing that was roughly the size of an office building attached to what looked like a huge inner tube, with four huge propellers was racing across the bay, heading straight at us. Thinking that it would pull up to a dock, like all of the other boats, I was a bit surprised when this huge thing came zooming straight up out of the water on a concrete ramp, and parked probably 100 yards away from us. Did I mention the noise? This Hovercraft was easily noisier than a 747.
We boarded, got strapped in, and the whole thing rumbled and shook as the air cushion reinflated, and then the hovercraft lurched forward into the channel and cruised across the water at an amazing rate of speed... and bumpiness. I had really wanted to take pictures, but all of the windows were covered by the spray that the huge propeller engines kicked up. We landed at Calais some thirty minutes later and crossed through the french customs checkpoint.
Going to Paris
The only thing I really remember about this is a long, long bus ride... where I got a bit car sick... or bus sick, as the case may be. I think I started perking up a bit on the outskirts of Paris. I just wanted to get out so bad... to get a drink, walk around and explore...
Paris: The Things We Saw
The Laundromat
Leaving Paris
The TGV
Arriving in Courchevel
The Parting of Ways
The Hotel Lac Bleu
The Altiport
Courchevel: The Things We Saw
Courchevel: The Things We Did
Sophie
Going Home
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