I Am London
My name is Jeremy Gordon. This is my quest to be London.
The Pogues
Last night at 3 AM, as the last Club Sandwich ended with a sing-a-long to “Fairytale of New York,” I felt sad about leaving for the first time.
Papers
Fuck ‘em. I’ve lost the will to edit them, only to turn them in. All I need to do is pass for me to get credit. I’m pretty sure I can do that, so I give up.
Home, Home, Home
I am coming home in 12 days. It is a weird feeling.
Election night (a rough chronology)
9:00: Friends and I arrive at the Student Union bar, commence drinking.
9:something: We start doing the pub quiz, which is American-themed. There is no real way anyone else is winning this; the first category is American Presidents, and shows pictures of old presidents. I think I write all the answers down in 45 seconds. (We end up winning in a landslide; the prize is a case of Budweiser, which we never end up collecting)
11:00: The TV gets turned on. BBC coverage. States aren’t being called.
Sidenote: The Brits we’re with seem genuinely interested about learning about the U.S. voting process. We explain the electoral college, polling, the importance of swing states, etc; it’s very fun. I wish I was in Chicago, but this is almost sort of as good. Well, no, it’s not.
12:00: States are being called. Every time a state is called for Obama, everyone stands up and starts cheering.
2:whenever: Ohio is called for Obama. Shit is in the tank. We start hugging and screaming and everyone wonders why; I loudly exclaim that Obama has won at this point, and the Brits we’re with are happy.
4:00: Obama officially wins when they call California and Washington for him. Euphoria in the bar. Hugging, crying, screaming, fist pumping, shouting, everything.
4:30: Back at my flat, we blast Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna Come” and loudly sing along. The security guard comes by and yells at us to be quiet.
5:00: We watch Obama’s speech in my flat’s kitchen. Everyone is completely quiet. Some people start crying. More hugging.
5:30: We relocate to Matthew’s, put his iPod on, and proceed to get drunk. Dancing commences. It’s on lockdown.
6:30: We light sparklers in the courtyard and sing American anthems. We go through a lot of sparklers. From the highest windows in the dorm, we hear cheering.
7:00: We go to the Goldsmiths’ Cafe to get a hearty English breakfast. I drunk dial my mom, then Wesley.
8:00: After reading political analysis for a bit, I crash. Oof.
FUCK
Someone is stealing our food, again. I’ve had four items go missing in the last week, and it’s not anyone in the flat.
This means someone is breaking into our flat every night and taking shit. This cannot stand. I am going to buy rat poison, taint my food with it, and the next time it goes missing, that person will die.
Shit is real!
Well, of course
- Me: Are there any new Housestaff [work-study job I have] relationships?
- Danny: Yes.
- Me: Oh??
- Danny: Me and...
- Danny: I'm trying to think of the most attractive girl.
- Danny: I'm having trouble.
My friend on a creepy guy who hit on her at tonight's Halloween party
- Friend: anyway, he was wearing a rabbit costume. and was like "do i look innocent? are you innocent?"
- Friend: and i was like "uh, i dunno, not really" and then he asked me where i was from. i said chicago, and he goes "they invented improv!" and started kissing my neck
Nov. 4
The Student Union is holding an America-themed pub quiz, during which live coverage of the election will be shown. It will run from 8 PM to 4 AM, drinks are a pound each, and they’ll be serving “American food.”
Translation: We are all going to be piles of drunk come dawn, especially if Obama wins.
Tuesday
Henceforth shall be known as “Don’t Shower Before Class” Day.
British girls
Do not understand American rap. I just had 3 6 Mafia and Biggie dismissed as “shit” by two of my flatmates, both of whom I will clearly no longer speak to…ever.
I mean, “Juicy.” Come on, now. Real talk.
