So once I got up from posting and walked, well…tried to walk to my purse to head out for the night I was pretty sure that I could not make the trek all the way down to Chinatown. Apparently while at The Tower of London someone drove nails into the tops of my hips, fucking felt like I was going to shatter with each step…my giant frame was punishing my, over exercised legs, pain…I was in serious pain. Had to throw in the white towel and tell the hubby, “Dude, don’t think I can do it” he was gracious, manipulative but gracious. We headed down to Covent Garden again, now I knew the train station was there but assumed he was not trying to punish me for questioning his directional “issues” from earlier so I followed.
We skipped the bustling square, and I mean bustling, everyone was out, there were like costumes and what not…it was raging down there. This girl, in no mood or condition to rage so the hubby made a sharp turn and we ended up on some tiny street where there just so happened to be a bar…shocking. Two Gin & Tonics and a shot of Jamison later and I was feeling new again, falling out into the street, getting whooshed into the crowd and following. Next thing I know we are in some raging crowd of people in what seemed like downtown Soho, couldn’t move, just shifted my shoulders, dropped my head and was moved with the mass of people. At one point I looked at my hubby with that, “Holy hell, help me” look and he grabbed my hand and yanked me from the pack.
Walked up half a block and lo and behold, we were in Chinatown. We found the restaurant that someone told us…we, “had to go to” and gleefully bellied up. Um, Chinatown in London compared to Chinatown San Francisco or Monterey Park..ahem, no comparison. The food was under seasoned, lacking any kind of life and the fried stuff sat in puddles of grease..ewe. The upshot, the place had a great French wine list, best one I have seen here in London as a matter of fact. So while the food was insipid I got to wash it down with a fantastic Sancerre from a producer I had never heard of, so not a total loss right? Paid our bill and began our journey back…yeah, the hubby’s radar was just off all day.
Wandered, we just wandered in the cold night air, my buzz getting less profound with each hip jarring step. Oh and the other super cool part, I was wearing my most favorite pants, (Merzie if you are reading, you know the ones) they are giant, way too big but I can wear them, or could without them like falling off and stuff but now…dagnabit.
We aimlessly walked the streets of London, me with my shooting pains in my hips and all the while gripping at the waist of my jeans trying to keep my britches up…I mean, I’m not in the square putting on a show, and I had no time to like prepare for a trow-dropping moment, my “stocking” not so much stuffed it you know what I’m sayin. I’m just looking as pathetic as can be at this point, limping behind my hubby looking like Quasimodo, gripping my pants for dear life and just trying to make it home, “I think I just want one more beer” my captain alerts…I stood there, gimped out looking at him like he just ran over my cat.
It’s his vacation too so I just trudged on, fist full of denim, nails in my hips and now an aching in my back from the over compensation, that’s when I saw that powder blue lights and heard the, “ungndst-ungndst, dunk-dunk-dunk” music..a bar, I swear it was like finding a chapel for me at that point, “Here! Let’s go here” I blurted, my captain was easily led astray today and he walked right in. We ordered a couple drinks, took notice as to how hot the bartenders were and took a look around the room as we sipped away…um, aside from the 70 year olds that were looking back at us like, “is this what I think it is” we were the only not same sex couple in the joint…gay bar, we were in a gay bar…rad. Rudy’s Revenge, we spent the remainder of the evening at Rudy’s Revenge. By the time we left I was fully rejuvenated and even though my most favorite pants had turned on me, (did a demo for the hubby as we walked to the room, let go of the pants and down they fell…dammit) I ended up having a fantastic day.
So two crappy, “You HAVE to” things and still the night was a swimming success. Just goes to show that laughter, even in the form of your wife gimping around and trying to keep from dropping trow, well that moment, that “cannot believe how silly this day is” moment, can change everything, make it all worth it and make a night that you will never forget.