Fifteen Days: Day 3.O'Neil'z

I think I would rather listen to gay, male brits than any other people in the world.  Sure, that makes me a creep, but their subtle femininity and great charisma and charm is so endearing to listen to.  God I love people watching…er, listening, I suppose.  Anyway, I am writing this in a little café while finishing my paper for Censored! and the guys next to me, though I doubt they’re in a relationship, are clearly gay and clearly loving life.  Big smile.

On a much unrelated note: the British are not big fans of the oxford comma.  I find that ironic.  Here we are, just an hour away from beautiful Oxford University, surrounded by lists just begging for a comma before the ‘and’ and there isn’t one insight.  I think that’s a bummer.  I don’t like to be confused when I am reading articles or reports and seeing ‘blahdy blah blah babble, bibble, blarg and bood.’  I immediately want to know why ‘blarg and bood’ are grouped together…what’s that about?  So confused.  It looks better with another comma right?  Like, more professional?  I wonder if Lynn Truss would be upset?—I cannot recall her opinion on the matter at the moment.

I did say that I would have story about last night, so I imagine that I should tell it.  Without any further adieu, I present to you O’Neil’s: A Meditation in Three Parts. 

Part 1: Pre Game

I was on the phone with my dad and my friends were rather insistent that it was time to go out.  So I finished up my blog, got off the phone, and put my stuff back inside my room.  I retrieved my gin and brought it to the kitchen where we decided what the agenda was for the evening.  Some of us were concerned that our days had been fucking ruined because we were banking on being able to go out as a group during the evening and there was talk that it might just be better to stay indoors (raining out) and just have some game time inside.  Things changed quickly though when Izzy suggested that we should all go out dancing.  We had all brought up the fact that we wanted to go to O’Neil’s at least one more time before the end of the semester so we agreed that tonight would be the night.  So, liquor runs were made, drinks were concocted, and cards were put in a circle around a cup in the middle.  It was time to pregame.  We decided on King’s Cup because everyone enjoys a rousing game of categories.  Here were some highlights before moving on:  The category was beer.  Christine and Izzy both threw out valid answers and then Ben submitted this little winner: Red Bull!  During Never Have I Ever, someone said, ‘never have I ever had a mouse as a pet.’  Steve: Wait, does a gerbil count?  Let’s all take a moment to slow clap for that response.  Of course we could also give Josh a slow clap for his explanation of his favorite number: “My favorite number is 8 because if you turn it on its side it’s an infinity sign and that’s how long I plan on living.  Until infinity.”

 Suddenly, half of my bottle of gin was gone and it was time to get on the train for Piccadilly!  Hooray!

Part 2:  O’Neil’s is Sweaty

We’re standing outside in a massive group with a massive queue ahead of us.  I’m feeling good and there is no way I was letting that die down outside in the cold.  So I decided that I couldn’t be bothered to wait in a line to get into the bar.  So I walked on up to the front, started laughing with no one, and slowly assimilated into the head of the line.  Ben accompanied me; I think he wanted to dance just as badly as I did.  Once indoors, I noticed that O’Neil’s was ungodly busy.  I threw my coat into the coat check in the basement and waltzed upstairs to get a drink before everyone else arrived.  Unfortunately, there was little snag.  I may or may not have bumped into a table which may or may not have caused a drink to fall on to the floor and shatter.  I may or may not have pretended I didn’t know it was my fault.  Some drunk girl verbally attacked me for a minute while I feigned innocence: “Oh, I’m so sorry!  Let me get you another one, is that okay?”  She rolled her eyes and asked: “Are you fucking stupid?”  I realized then that she had no idea where she was and had probably rolled out of her haystack bedding just an hour earlier and was rallying from the night before.  I walked away.  When I got to the usual spot, right up by the band on the right most side, I was greeted by every one of my friends that had just gotten inside and were already dancing the night away.  The band played some pretty classic things like The Killers, some Blink 182, Guns N’ Roses, but also managed to sneak in some more recent things like Rihanna.  Jenny and Jamie were the first casualties and left at around 1:00.  Steve, Izzy, and Jacque died off next, along with a good portion of the group we had met up with.  There was a point where just Matt, his roommate Steve, Rachel, Emily, and I were centered around a pole and dancing to some Gaga, Cee Lo, and Katy Perry.  I do believe we had a very good time.  Allow me to reiterate though:  that place was packed.

Part 3: After

I am not sure what time we left, I just know that it was fairly late or rather early, depending on your perspective.  Matt, Rachel, Steve, and Emily all decided to take the 20 minute bus ride, but I opted out in favor of a walk home.  No one tagged along.  I think that it was probably for the better.  The walk was mainly to clear my head of all the unnecessary drama of the evening before we decided on our evening plan.  In retrospect, walking home on a Saturday night all by myself was probably not the brightest idea I’ve had since being here.  Not to mention I stopped in Green Park and Hyde Park Corner on my way back.  Still, the walk was much needed and so beautiful.  I took a seat on a bench in Green Park on my way home and just stared at the massive trees and looked up at the stars, the same ones that everyone can see back home.  I had a little An American Tale moment on that bench.  Then I started tearing up and reflecting on this little experience of mine.  It’s been unreal.  Just unreal.  Of course, it’s not over yet, there’s plenty of time to make new memories. 

When I got to the Sloane Street area, I took a moment to look into some of the designer windows like Chanel, Roberto Cavalli, Armani, D & G, etc.  They were all pretty spectacular, though none of them can hold a candle to Harvey Nichols.  It was when I was peering into the little windows that I realized that I was entirely alone on Sloane Street.  No people, no cars, no taxis, no buses; it was just me and all of these impeccably lit designer windows and the rustling of leaves on the sidewalk.  Izzy, when I finally returned home, would go on to ask me why I was wasting Sunday working on a paper and tell me that I wasted a whole weekend in London.  But tell me:  who gets to experience one of the most extravagant shopping streets in all of London by his or herself?  Who has that privilege of being all alone in this massive, massive city?

Me.  Myself. I.