LAST DAY OF FUN

Thanks to last night’s bipolar outbreak, I was painfully hung over and wondered what on earth was planted in Ching’s breakfast allowing her to be chipper in the morning. All throughout my UK trip, I had been experiencing nasty bouts of charley horses, and boy, I was ready to saw off my knees.

As a non-driver in NYC, walking is a default. With my braided leg muscles, I hobbled my way around London in dignified grace. Not.

Before embarking our journey to the Tower of London, Ching wanted to stop by at Boots to buy 10 little tins of Vaseline Aloe Lip balm for 99p each while Richard grabbed a small can of deodorant spray. I couldn’t believe it! Does he know…or not??!!

Anyway, this was my second trip to the Tower of London, so I was looking forward to seeing the crown jewels and the animated Beefeater tour once again. As expected, Richard pointed to one direction while facing the opposite way - when he led us out of the station exit. Till this day, Ching and I are still trying to unravel this mystery about Richard.

It was absolutely a gorgeous day. We joined a band of tourists on a popularly guided tour narrated by lively and burly Englishmen donning those adorable eye-catching red outfits you find on bottles of Smirnoff vodka. It must be HELL during summer.

About 1/3 into the tour, I noticed that our group had increased twofold as more and more Americans realized how clueless they were about the English history. The narrative piece was quite different than the one given 7 years ago – this time, there was a greater focus regarding the murder of the young Princes in the Tower as opposed to Henry VIII’s six marriages and Elizabeth I, Virgin Queen. To this day, I still recall the historical account (as given by the garbed warders, of course) of Elizabeth’s claim to throne and how she fended off her enemies during her reign. Maybe because the movie, Elizabeth, was due to be released later that month (we're talking 7 years ago) - therefore, a deliberate marketing ploy to hype it up in the motherland. Who knows.

The final chapter of this tour included a visit to the Chapel where everyone was seated during our guide’s spiel. Interestingly enough, he wrapped it up by introducing a Q&A forum to everyone. Only two questions were asked and quickly answered, so the guide alluded to the topic of ghosts seen roaming around the castle grounds. He described his personal experience of paranormal activity within this very chapel as well as the sightings of the infamous glowing orbs floating by the towers during the day. Skepticism, anxiety and even excitement, descended upon everyone when he spoke of a woman seated by the pew dressed in a period garb.

When the tour was over, Ching and I headed towards the front to take a closer look at the altar and its surroundings. It was nothing truly spectacular in its appearance; in fact, it looked quite ordinary and eerily quiet. We turned around and followed the rest of the group out. I tipped the guide £2 and couldn’t help but to notice his enormous hands. In his right hand, there had to be at least £60 worth of coins (£1 pound coin is a bit smaller than a quarter, but denser in thickness) while his left hand was free to assist the ladies, should they stumble over the inconspicuous little step by the doorway. Per our guide, this was the best part of his job and the men would have to brace themselves should they trip. Mind you, he was handling the coins rather deftly without losing any of his wonderful charm.

Plus, this isn’t his only tour round for the day. On a good day, I bet he could easily make well over £150 a day on tips alone…that’s better than some college educated grads like me!

About 20 feet away outside of the chapel, Ching asked me a question:

Ching: Did you feel it?

Me: Inside?

Ching: Yep, uh-huh.

Me: As though as someone’s lookin’ at you from behind.

Ching: That’s it.

[On occasion, I can feel two eyes boring down my neck when I visit such places. People often wonder why I would turn around and look behind me. It’s as though someone whispering and pointing behind my back and I would react by turning around to halt the buzzing. Because of this sensitivity, I can’t help but to look back a few more times causing those around me think I’m some paranoid freak.]

Since Ching and I were the last two to file out, I didn’t bother turning around to check and see. Fortunately for us, it wasn’t a negative entity, or else I would’ve ran my ass outta there crying for my mommy.

During the entire time, we walked from one end to the tower and the next, facing many detours. Apparently the areas were sectioned off in a choppy manner, so we would have to climb in and out of the towers instead of walking along the bridged areas. Ching had assumed that we didn’t enjoy ToL because we were unusually quiet. Erm, she was the only one who wasn’t quite hung over in pain.

Because it was so late in the day, I assumed that Richard would return to Brum and Ching would skip the British Museum. NOT. Ching absolutely had to pay homage to a proper museum in the UK, and Richard, well; he’d rather tag along with us to ensure that we wouldn’t get lost. A-hem. With all of these human roundabouts and the sort, we’ve gone the long route more often than not.

Because NYC MTA is FUBAR, getting around via Tube is a piece of cake. Plus, their maps are EASIER to read than our shitty ones here. Richard, on the other hand, is color blind and takes the plunge when it comes to traveling. We had to get off the train a few times because we’ve either taken the wrong line or gone the opposite direction!

So off to the British Museum we go. Because we arrived there at quarter to five, certain exhibits began closing up – so we could only get a taste of the whole pie. The Museum is massive, along with its extraordinary displays of culture and civilization. Unlike the Met, the Museum requests donations for entry as opposed to the set ticket prices. I didn’t think anything topped the Met, but in terms of variety and possessions, the Museum is extremely remarkable with its collections.

What I found a bit odd was that many of the items were not roped off which is a big invitation for damage and destruction. You’ll always have the moronic lot of wankers who cannot refrain from touching or ruining property because they have nothing better to do with themselves. You could actually take pictures of these monumental displays which is a big no-no in the States.

Grounded by my American standards, I barked at Richard for touching an Egyptian sarcophagus. Maybe it’s because we are more in tune with preservation of historical artifacts than the Brits? Not only were the displays were out in the open, no Steward was minding them either. Ching and I were constantly questioning whether or not these museums in England were 'hands-on' because they were out in the open.

The chief aspect I disliked about the Museum was the shoddy arrangement of their cultural exhibits. It was as though they took everything and anything that was related to the subject matter and dumped it all in one place. Although the Museum’s individual items were exceptionally impressive, the disorganization between exhibits could shadow the most famous displays in its possession.

At least with the Met, the flow of history and its events would lead you to the ultimate prize when you complete your tour from one end of the wing to the other. Its introduction sets the stage building up some drama for a sensational ending to experience.

We even saw a well-preserved body along with its burial site at least a thousand years old. Then Ching announced the reason why she wanted to be cremated was to avoid being put on display with her ass hanging out at some historical museum. Okay…

As the day hits the night, we neared the final moment where we said our proper goodbyes to Richard. Before we went our separate ways, we requested that he ring us up when he reached home. After we exchanged remarks, gestures and hugs, he headed off to Victoria Station while Ching and I discussed our plans for our departure on Saturday.

Again, we had to get off our train because we had taken the wrong line thanks to Richard’s advice. Why did I even bother to listen to him?

Duh at me.