Oyster Card, Credit Cards, Business Cards, and Much Much More
Monday morning has arrived. Tuesday is not far off. Now we all know what that means…say it with me now, “RENT!” Yaaaaaay, Rent! Isn’t that fun everyone. I thought not. Yea, so at least this week I have the money to pay for rent, and food. I successfully received the package with my credit cards in it from my parents, and now I am happy to say that my debit cards have afforded me many luxuries.
The extravagances began to take hold at the end of last week, Wednesday to be exact. On this day, I sat on the stairs of the first level of my flat, on the floor, for seven hours…waiting. The reason for this is that the house doorbell is not in working order, and seeing as I live on the third floor of the house, knowing someone has arrived is all but impossible. Now you might be saying, “That is not lavish by any means.” And I retort, “Do you stay at your London flat all day with nothing to do but read “The Da Vinci Code” and wait for a package?” A moment of silence, just to let that sink in, and then, “I don’t think so.” So why so long, seven hours, one would think a package should show up in this allotted amount of time. But no, this is not the case, nothing should ever be that easy. So at this point I decide to call FedEx one more time before I give up for the day. I had spoken with them earlier in the morning, at which time they informed me the package was out for delivery. So very informative. When I spoke with them the second time, I was once again informed, but this time with different information all together. It seems as though the package did not go out for delivery at all, it sat in the warehouse waiting for me, while I patiently waited for it. I then decided it was time to go down to the FedEx center and straighten then wankers out. Having no money at all, I was was forced to borrow a housemate’s Oyster Card (a top of the line tube/subway pass) to get down to Southeast London in order to get my package. The problem was that it was already 4:30 pm when I left, and the offices were to close at 6:00 pm. I ran to the Central Line Shepherd’s Bush Tube station, which is a good ten-minute walk from my house, and hopped onto the first train that showed up. When I finally arrived at the Vauxhall station it was already 5:40 and I had no time to waste. Unfortunately, going somewhere you have never been before lends itself quite nicely to wasting time. Instead of stressing about which way to begin, I took a guess, and proceeded to run. I just kept running and running and running (jenny.) Now this was quite the picture. Wearing a hooded sweatshirt, a beanie, jeans, and long socks (due to the fact that it was damn cold this day), I ran further and harder than I had run since the days of high school soccer. But, on account of my running, the clothing became a lot to handle. I finally arrived at the FedEx offices with two minutes to spare, amazed that I had even gone the right direction. As I stepped through the front doors, panting and sweating like a bitch in heat, I got strange looks from all around the room. I walked up to the counter and managed to get a few words out between pants. “I made it.” The agent behind the desk, with a confused look on his face, said, “Made it? We close at 8:00, it’s only 6:00.” I took a seat.
The following day, with credit cards in hand, I walked about 4 doors down from my house. I was off to get passport photos done in an effort to finally get an Oyster Card, freedom from not going anywhere. They offered passport photos in house for 10 pounds and this was definitely not alright by me. Finally, after talking to them for a while, I got them to give me a free blank CD so I could go home, shoot my own passport photo, and bring them the file back to be printed. This cost me a total of 67p. What a deal.
The credit card situation could not have been sorted out any sooner. I got a phone call later this same day, Thursday, from a friend of mine who I had met the previous week when he so kindly took me to lunch (still standing as the best food I have had since I’ve been here). Him and his fiancé invited me to what he thought was going to be some sort of fashion show. My first reaction was, Hell yea! I got an Oyster Card baby! I can go anywhere I want. And my second was, Fashion show? Photographers, and promoters, and artists, oh my! I proceeded to put on my best digs, filled my pockets with business cards, and took off onto the tube. The event was held at an office building’s floor level bar on Great Portland Street in Zone 1 of downtown London. I arrived a little earlier than my buddy Chip, and before long I realized there was an open bar. How delightful? Very. The night was off to a great start. After putting back my first cocktail, the promoter of the show began speaking over the PA. She proceeded to introduce the “photographer” of the show, whose work was hanging from the windows in the front of the bar. If you haven’t put it together yet, this event ended up being a photography exhibit, and not a fashion show. Could I have asked for much more? No. I couldn’t have. As the night went on, I rubbed elbows with some of the biggest show promoters in the London area. Business cards were flying and a great attempt was made at getting as many of them as I could, introducing myself to anyone that I thought I might like to know. I also had the pleasure of meeting the billionaire bosses of Chip (who works as a venture capitalist in London). When I say billionaire, I mean they have over a billion pounds. Crazy. But I have to say, I was more impressed with the photography then anything else. This work was so progressive. It utilized the advertising technologies that are implemented so regularly in this area. Surely you have all seen this technique used at some point in the states. When you look at the image from different locations, or as you walk by it, certain aspects of it change. In his work, he shot outdoors in wooded areas, or areas with vast open fields. Green dominated the landscapes, and juxtaposed against the powerful scenery were female figures draped in long, bright, flowing fabrics. As you stroll by, the girl vanishes, leaving only the scenery and the ghostly garments standing in the open.
Now for a bit of a tangent. Let me tell you, my first experience with a French person is everything I expected it to be. One of the girls in the house, actually living right next door to me, is a complete spoiled snob. I don’t know if being French has anything to do with it, because I have yet to visit France, but let me tell you, she has no respect for anything. There are two sinks in the house, one on our floor (a floor with 5 people), and one of the first floor. For the first two weeks, I could not even use the sink upstairs due to someone (take a guess) not doing their dishes. The stench, oh the stench. On top of that, when she takes a shower, somehow she makes the entire bathroom soaking wet, to the point where you can’t even walk in there on account of you might slip, fall, and die. Ok, enough of that…trying to be positive.
Continuing on with the weekend. On Friday night I went to a bar/club at Leicester Square called Zoo Bar. This is a really crazy area. Mostly tourists, from what I could tell, but I have to say that this is the most people I’ve seen out late partying since I went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans a few years back. Just people everywhere. As we walked through the madness we were handed free entry passes, along with complimentary drink passes, to the club we were on our way to. How convenient. This saved us 8 pounds each for entry, and another 15 pounds in drinks. That’s more money than I even brought out with me…way more. Nothing really that exciting to report, a lot of American music, dancing, drinking, and all that jazz.
Saturday came without regard. My Virginia girl housemates had met some British guys the previous night at the Zoo Bar, and they were going out with them tonight so I decided I would go too. Every night a new adventure. We ended up going to this crazy club called Aquarium where we had to be on a guest list, and luckily these guys had gotten us on. On top of that, it was 15 pounds to get in here. It was disco night! Crazy fun for sure, but the narliest part of this night was the fact that there was a swimming pool and Jacuzzi inside the club. Seeing as I only brought 6 pounds with me tonight, and I had given the lot to one of the guys who paid for all of us to get into the club, the pound it cost for a towel was way over my head. I had an awesome time though dancing to a bunch of old Michael Jackson and checking out all the disco clad British babes. We took a bus home and got home around 3:45. Damn…you can go all out in this town, I love it!
All right, that’s it for now. I hope you liked this one.
Love You All I’m Sure,
Blakers
The extravagances began to take hold at the end of last week, Wednesday to be exact. On this day, I sat on the stairs of the first level of my flat, on the floor, for seven hours…waiting. The reason for this is that the house doorbell is not in working order, and seeing as I live on the third floor of the house, knowing someone has arrived is all but impossible. Now you might be saying, “That is not lavish by any means.” And I retort, “Do you stay at your London flat all day with nothing to do but read “The Da Vinci Code” and wait for a package?” A moment of silence, just to let that sink in, and then, “I don’t think so.” So why so long, seven hours, one would think a package should show up in this allotted amount of time. But no, this is not the case, nothing should ever be that easy. So at this point I decide to call FedEx one more time before I give up for the day. I had spoken with them earlier in the morning, at which time they informed me the package was out for delivery. So very informative. When I spoke with them the second time, I was once again informed, but this time with different information all together. It seems as though the package did not go out for delivery at all, it sat in the warehouse waiting for me, while I patiently waited for it. I then decided it was time to go down to the FedEx center and straighten then wankers out. Having no money at all, I was was forced to borrow a housemate’s Oyster Card (a top of the line tube/subway pass) to get down to Southeast London in order to get my package. The problem was that it was already 4:30 pm when I left, and the offices were to close at 6:00 pm. I ran to the Central Line Shepherd’s Bush Tube station, which is a good ten-minute walk from my house, and hopped onto the first train that showed up. When I finally arrived at the Vauxhall station it was already 5:40 and I had no time to waste. Unfortunately, going somewhere you have never been before lends itself quite nicely to wasting time. Instead of stressing about which way to begin, I took a guess, and proceeded to run. I just kept running and running and running (jenny.) Now this was quite the picture. Wearing a hooded sweatshirt, a beanie, jeans, and long socks (due to the fact that it was damn cold this day), I ran further and harder than I had run since the days of high school soccer. But, on account of my running, the clothing became a lot to handle. I finally arrived at the FedEx offices with two minutes to spare, amazed that I had even gone the right direction. As I stepped through the front doors, panting and sweating like a bitch in heat, I got strange looks from all around the room. I walked up to the counter and managed to get a few words out between pants. “I made it.” The agent behind the desk, with a confused look on his face, said, “Made it? We close at 8:00, it’s only 6:00.” I took a seat.
The following day, with credit cards in hand, I walked about 4 doors down from my house. I was off to get passport photos done in an effort to finally get an Oyster Card, freedom from not going anywhere. They offered passport photos in house for 10 pounds and this was definitely not alright by me. Finally, after talking to them for a while, I got them to give me a free blank CD so I could go home, shoot my own passport photo, and bring them the file back to be printed. This cost me a total of 67p. What a deal.
The credit card situation could not have been sorted out any sooner. I got a phone call later this same day, Thursday, from a friend of mine who I had met the previous week when he so kindly took me to lunch (still standing as the best food I have had since I’ve been here). Him and his fiancé invited me to what he thought was going to be some sort of fashion show. My first reaction was, Hell yea! I got an Oyster Card baby! I can go anywhere I want. And my second was, Fashion show? Photographers, and promoters, and artists, oh my! I proceeded to put on my best digs, filled my pockets with business cards, and took off onto the tube. The event was held at an office building’s floor level bar on Great Portland Street in Zone 1 of downtown London. I arrived a little earlier than my buddy Chip, and before long I realized there was an open bar. How delightful? Very. The night was off to a great start. After putting back my first cocktail, the promoter of the show began speaking over the PA. She proceeded to introduce the “photographer” of the show, whose work was hanging from the windows in the front of the bar. If you haven’t put it together yet, this event ended up being a photography exhibit, and not a fashion show. Could I have asked for much more? No. I couldn’t have. As the night went on, I rubbed elbows with some of the biggest show promoters in the London area. Business cards were flying and a great attempt was made at getting as many of them as I could, introducing myself to anyone that I thought I might like to know. I also had the pleasure of meeting the billionaire bosses of Chip (who works as a venture capitalist in London). When I say billionaire, I mean they have over a billion pounds. Crazy. But I have to say, I was more impressed with the photography then anything else. This work was so progressive. It utilized the advertising technologies that are implemented so regularly in this area. Surely you have all seen this technique used at some point in the states. When you look at the image from different locations, or as you walk by it, certain aspects of it change. In his work, he shot outdoors in wooded areas, or areas with vast open fields. Green dominated the landscapes, and juxtaposed against the powerful scenery were female figures draped in long, bright, flowing fabrics. As you stroll by, the girl vanishes, leaving only the scenery and the ghostly garments standing in the open.
Now for a bit of a tangent. Let me tell you, my first experience with a French person is everything I expected it to be. One of the girls in the house, actually living right next door to me, is a complete spoiled snob. I don’t know if being French has anything to do with it, because I have yet to visit France, but let me tell you, she has no respect for anything. There are two sinks in the house, one on our floor (a floor with 5 people), and one of the first floor. For the first two weeks, I could not even use the sink upstairs due to someone (take a guess) not doing their dishes. The stench, oh the stench. On top of that, when she takes a shower, somehow she makes the entire bathroom soaking wet, to the point where you can’t even walk in there on account of you might slip, fall, and die. Ok, enough of that…trying to be positive.
Continuing on with the weekend. On Friday night I went to a bar/club at Leicester Square called Zoo Bar. This is a really crazy area. Mostly tourists, from what I could tell, but I have to say that this is the most people I’ve seen out late partying since I went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans a few years back. Just people everywhere. As we walked through the madness we were handed free entry passes, along with complimentary drink passes, to the club we were on our way to. How convenient. This saved us 8 pounds each for entry, and another 15 pounds in drinks. That’s more money than I even brought out with me…way more. Nothing really that exciting to report, a lot of American music, dancing, drinking, and all that jazz.
Saturday came without regard. My Virginia girl housemates had met some British guys the previous night at the Zoo Bar, and they were going out with them tonight so I decided I would go too. Every night a new adventure. We ended up going to this crazy club called Aquarium where we had to be on a guest list, and luckily these guys had gotten us on. On top of that, it was 15 pounds to get in here. It was disco night! Crazy fun for sure, but the narliest part of this night was the fact that there was a swimming pool and Jacuzzi inside the club. Seeing as I only brought 6 pounds with me tonight, and I had given the lot to one of the guys who paid for all of us to get into the club, the pound it cost for a towel was way over my head. I had an awesome time though dancing to a bunch of old Michael Jackson and checking out all the disco clad British babes. We took a bus home and got home around 3:45. Damn…you can go all out in this town, I love it!
All right, that’s it for now. I hope you liked this one.
Love You All I’m Sure,
Blakers
posted by Blake J. Nolan | Monday, September 27, 2004
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7 comments
