post-ironic quotation marks

Slightly neurotic (but cute!) singleton looking for adventure, finical stability, and some delusion of meaning. With much thought in the topic of sincerity and the occasional film review.

Saturday, December 31, 2005

OOh, shiny

Happy New Years.

Braved the crowds and the cold to watch the Fireworks by the Thames (it was very pretty and loud).

Beforehand, I got picked up one and a half times. The first was in a Waterstones, where another customer asked me if I knew of any good bars in the area. I confessed that I didn't, and we talked for a bit, while I mused about finding "America: The Book" in the exact same edition as in the states. He confessed he had no idea what I was talking about, and had never heard of the Daily Show or Jon Stewart. I made an excuse to leave then.

the half time, was at Pizza Express, where a famished me sat down and ate a pizza and read a recently acquired copy of Neverwhere. When I paid my bill, the waiter laughed when I apologized for being American and not having a clue as to what the hell I'm doing here. Then he said, "You're reading Neil Gaiman?"

"Yeah," I reply. I am about to tell him about how I met Neil.

"I've met him about four or five times." He replies, straightening up a bit and smiling.


"I used to date girl who worked with his agent so everytime he was in town I'd see him. He's really nice."

Even with the past girl friend bit, doesn't that sound like he's trying to impress me? Just a bit? (Or was I reading too much into it because he was really cute).

Oh! I forgot, a third time today, in one of the working tube stops (there was a strike, only some of the stations were closed, and a few weren't. I don't get it either, but hey, as along as I wasn't walking back from Westminster to Hackney, I'm a happy girl). I hear this person muttering to himself, and then realise that he's talking about me. Perhaps a comment? Yeah, he's looking at my badges, and then asks me if I'm Polish (or if I speak Polish, I don't know), and then German. Why? Because I had an anti-war button. He was a little ... drunk, but not drunk enough to not notice when a person isn't interested.

Thursday, December 29, 2005

I arrived in London without any luggage. Funny, because I distinctly remember placing my boarding pass in a duffle bag that was being checked, and had been checked, as soon as saw that I was holding my STA itinerary and not the thing I needed to get onto the plane.

Dulles is a horrible, horrible air port. Sane people should never travel there. Ever. Oh Logan, you took forever to get to, but at least I spent most of the two hour time waiting around the terminal board rather than panicking to check in because the line was so long, I doubt it would even be possible to describe it, except by time. An hour and twenty minute line, and I eventually got placed in the shorter one, as everyone else on my flight started panicking, and if there's anything that spreads faster than panic, it's a way to escape the hell that is queuing.

But, after dealing with that, and a few minutes in customs, I go down to the baggage claim to see that I have nothing to claim. Nothing. Looking over, I see a line of customers at the United counter, so it wasn't stolen. Just put on the later flight. I think that I won brownie points with the fellow travelers by explaining that 1) I lost both my bags, and that 2) I'm staying here for at least five months. So, now I'm lolling about Heathrow airport for a few hours. At least I miss the joy of taking my caravan of luggage on the tube during the morning rush hour. I would hate me. Never mind the people who are just trying to get to work. Justified homicide, much.

Don't know what I'm going to do for the rest of the day. Start the job hunt I guess.

I arrive at the apartment at 1 o'clock. Was suppose to be there at nine. Spent the rest of the time on-line doing that apartment/job hunting thing and sleeping. It's not the jet lag, it's the having been up for more or less 24 hours (and I couldn't sleep on the plane), and it was all that I could do to keep my eyes open. Almost fell asleep on the heathrow express, which would have been funny.

Right now, London is cold. I think that the heater works, but I can't feel a thing, and I'm wearing two sweaters. Going to go across the street to the grocery store after dinner. Mmmm, snack food...