I figured that I would place this special individual first on my site because she was one of the first people to discover me on the mean streets of London. She took me under her wing, showed me London, and believed in me. Interesting gal, and an older one at that. She's what one would consider a posh businesswoman, and judging by the fact that she was fond of riding horses every Saturday morning in the Royal Hyde Park, I'd assume she was a successful one at that. There were more than a few wrinkles in her past, though, unbeknownst from her oh so posh accent: she was a recovering drug addict. I knew something was awry when she couldnt seem to stop twitching every time we met in private. Only after I poured drinks into her did she seem to relax. She was also in reawakening mode, and it was I who finally gave her the nudge to go out on the town again, engage in no other drug than alcohol, and have a killer time. I'll miss her.

 

 

A bit of a tragic story here. I met this Irish woman one quaint Tuesday evening as I was wandering about London feeling melancholy about the whole evening. She was one of the many skilled and unskilled Irish making their living in the great city. We truly connected, and I was looking forward to seeing London with her for the next few days of my vacation. That evening in the same pub, we met up with the gregarious Dominic, the barman at Waxy's just a few doors down. At 04.00 AM, we all staggered back there with him. With backdoor keys in hand, we switched on the lights and got some Wednesday morning drinking going! Too bad that on our way out, I was terribly drunk, and told my girl to piss off (she did, for good, unfortunately).

 

 

Again, another meaningless photo, but interesting in that it is with a peasana from the Mother country of Mexico. She was staying in the hostel like me, and we had a few drinks and a laugh . . . then I never saw her again. Fret not my Latino mates who venture across the pond, for London is full of our Aztec sisters. They go there to learn English in a country that is not America. Charming accents, though.

 

 

This was a young charming Norwegian whose charcoal-black haircolour wasn't quite convincing. In any case, I was attracted to her bohemian-alternative style. She was actually a member of  the hostel staff (she cleaned-up after me), so we enjoyed a few drunken evenings at the hostel bar downstairs. I was beginning to be known as the hard-drinking tenant whose appearances were always immaculately kept . . . and who wore funky sunglasses at night.

 

London is probably the most international city in the world. I met these gregarious women at a West End club. Very pretty women from very different parts of the world.

 

Mike (in the middle) was a USC medical student who I also met at the hostel. We spent a few nights out on the town. This is a photo of us with two American women. Mike was an interesting and decadent man. He was a former financial analyst turned medical internist. His Californian depravity was apparent in the fact that he recommended I try every drug available until I found just the right one. He was a nice and extremely intelligent guy, and if anything, he represented American a-moralism rather than im-moralism. His Californian political correctness began wearing me down throughout the evening, though. After asking if his Korean parents came to the US for political reasons, he blew up at me for being crude and uninformed Mexican. I nearly threw him off the balcony.

 

Although I was walking out of the pub with two of the women in the previous pictures, try as I may, I couldnt keep from ogling over the lovely street performer and her . . . props. I've got that "look at me dudes, hooorah!" look on my face. I actually remember her agreeing to meet me later that evening, but as you can guess, after a few more pints, I completely forgot about the appointment. Tisk, tisk.

 

Even I get a kick from the look upon my silly face here. I took this picture when I was drinking with two Irish women . . . considering the practice they have over me, it was quite a bad idea in retrospect.

 

I like this photo because it looks very Irish. Old Juan's got an aye for photography!

 

Yes, this woman really was swigging straight from the vodka bottle. The bottle was actually one of two that I brought over from the US, due to spirits prices in the UK. If you look closely, it has a pink tint to it. I mixed grenadine into it, such that one could mix it directly with water. That's engineering. The lass drinking it, along with another friend from home, were Finnish tenants who were working in Soho as exotic dancers.

 

This is a photo of the same Finn looking at a former US Army guy, not exactly an interesting or brilliant one, who she dared to pull out his schlong. Yes, he really did do it. I don't remember their response, but he was hoping to get some points for his actions. One of the other hostellers drooling over the two Finns mentioned that it isn't the obnoxious American who pulled his schlong out that the Finns should be worried about, but the one sitting on the stairs (me) with the other Finn who hasn't said two words all night.

 

This story is almost too bizarre to believe, and I hesitate even publicizing it, but what the heck. This is Liz, and Oregon native, and if you notice, we are sitting quite chummy in our coach seats on a crappy Northwest flight from London to Detroit. What piqued her interest about me was the quaint fact that I was thumbing through a used book: "The Communist manifesto." Not exactly a John Grisham or an Ann Rice novel, but something different. I stole a few more plastic bottles of wine when the flight attendant wasnt looking before asking her if shed ever kissed anybody on a transatlantic flight! Notice the people in the back staring at us like were from another planet. I think they are wondering why they couldnt have hooked up with someone on that long boring haul. Drunk as skunks, the flight felt as if it were only an hour long.

 

If you had just one chance to be with that special someone, and face terrible consequences for it, would you? Would you really do anything for love? I'm a lover of life, and yes, I did! When we landed in Detroit, I was off to Houston and she to Oregon. I simply couldnt let this end without any closure. After customs, we both had a slim 60 minutes before our flight left the gate. We felt totally cheesy walking with our luggage to the airport Westin. Although I played it off as if I was a powerful oil and gas executive, a room was $350, and we were drunk, dirty, and fatigued. After considering forgetting the whole idea, I went to the counter and pleaded with Northwest to let me stay over in Detroit for just one evening. I was sadly informed that I had the most restrictive ticket available, and that should I not be onboard, I would lose that portion of my trip entirely. I sat back and thought, then said: "Screw it, I'll somehow find a way back to Houston." I ended my vacation by being stranded in an alien city without any means to return home. As we lay in bed that night, washed and rested, I wasnt looking forward to check-out the next morning.

 

The one good thing about sticking around in Detroit was that luckily for me, my brother lived there. I spent a few good days with him detoxing and recuperating. I then drove his Jeep down to Indiana to visit my family and darling nieces, aged 9, 9, and 3.

 

Though I was comfortable in Detroit, I still had to get back to Houston, somehow. I had more time than money, so tempting though as it was, I wouldnt get the Southwest flight for $350. After considering hitchhiking, I instead opted for the unthinkable: Greyhound. Yes, from Detroit it was 40 hours of cramped, smelly, creepy, and sleepless hell. All I could look forward to, as when I was bivouacking in the Foreign Legion, was knowing that in a day or so, Id be sleeping in a real bed. I was lucky enough to have met a gang of sexy women . . . Catholic missionaries! All were great gals. Too bad they got off early in the trip. My new roommate, Shannon, was at the Houston terminal, like an angel, to take me back home. What a trip!