London: its like America Jr.

For whatever reasons the country I have the most trouble traveling around is the UK. Two trips in my life and two missed departures out of the country. Granted it is a combination of my own retardation and incredibly bad luck, but I have yet to leave London successfully in two attempts. Last Sunday’s mishap aside (which was actually the fault of the Gatwick express breaking down en route to the airport, not my fault. Unlike the time Nat and I just missed our flight while searching for soccer jerseys and then were unable to figure out the tube) it was a fantastic weekend.

Friday afternoon, Simon gave me and two other friends a detailed tour of the city. There is not a monument to George Washington or Benedict Arnold as I was promised. We concluded our trip around the city with a stop in a famous 17th century pub where, allegedly, Charles Dickens used to write. Barnes’ friend was DJing at the Ministry of Sound, one of London’s bigger nightclubs, which lead to a night of sloppy dancing and probably pissing Brits off.

Saturday was match day. Even though we were unable to get Tottenham (my team) tickets for that Sunday, Simon’s friend hooked us up with Chelsea tickets. We paid a very reasonable amount to sit five rows backs from the pitch as the Blues took on another top club, Manchester City. The best part, and what made my weekend, happened before the game. Walking towards the stadium, we stopped a few hundred meters short of the police line to finish our beers. Ducking into an alcove, Simon spotted a familiar face across the way: Harry Redknapp, manager of my favorite team. With the help of some liquid courage we crossed the street and asked if we could take a picture with the footballing legend. He obliged, even chatting us up while the retarded parking attendant attempted to take a picture with maybe the easiest camera in the world. He wished us luck, shook our hands and headed off to the match. I may not have made it to the Spurs match the next day, but I certainly got my fair share of football that Saturday.

All in all it was a swagtastic weekend as the rest of the time was spent between pubs and tourist attractions. Even making it to, and this is where my Mom will be proud, the famed British Museum, which is filled with countless world treasures. A few weeks back in Madrid and then back to London to start my spring break and finally make my pilgrimage to the White Heart Lane (home of Tottenham).