I Cried Like A Wuss

Sunday was the most exciting day yet. Woke up feeling tons better but purposely took it real easy to make sure we were at our best for our theatre matinee reservations later in the afternoon. Decided to nix our outing to Tate Modern (regrettably - I've been before but wanted to go again), and take a long and leisurely morning nap.

By the by, the other night I purchased a new suitcase. The one we brought on the trip failed us on the first day in London - one of the wheels broke - and so it seemed necessary to dish out extra money to replace it. It was fine with me anyway since the old suitcase was a flimsy budget buy with no real stability. I was prepared to go to Oxford Street and browse the department stores, but just as we turned to corner, heading to Earls Court station, I noticed across the street a small shop with tons of souvenirs, bags and suitcases for sale. Beeline. I found a really solid black rolling case for the "reasonable price" of 80 quid (about $157).

Segueing back... At about 12 pm we headed to Covent Garden, first to have lunch at Porters English Restaurant, a decent place with decent English food. The theatre lunch deal was good for what was left of our pounds, at least. JD and I had both ordered their St. Peter's Brewery Honey Porter, which was one of the most delicious beers we've ever tasted, no joke. It had a distinct honey aftertaste and when you finish your pint, the glass leaves a fermented honey scent.

While JD was in the restroom, I noticed this group at a table next to us with what looked like a box gift set of beer and glasses. I leaned over and asked the group how they got it. "Ask your server. We got the Honey Porter, it is by far the best!" they said. I responded, "that was what WE had! I agree, it was delicious." I thanked them and when the server came back with the check, I purchased a Honey Porter set for JD (2 bottles of Honey Porter, 2 beer glasses.)

After lunch it was time to go see The Lion King. JD has seen it in New York City when he was younger and he admitted to me that the opening number Circle of Life made him cry. I ribbed him and called him a wuss, jokingly, and said I wasn't going to cry over something silly like that. (Truthfully, when I first saw The Lion King trailer in the movie theatre circa 1993, it was the Circle of Life musical opening scene, and I bawled like a baby.)

So yeah... when the opening sequence began, with Rafiki singing lead and all the actors/dancers/singers coming out in their animal costumes, the first thing I thought was: "Oh my god." I was not prepared for the genius and beauty I was seeing. Nor was I prepared for when the ensemble finally chimed in at the chorus. By the time the dramatic, harmonic last lines of the song ended, I could hardly hold it back. I choked and sobbed like a damn wuss. Needless to say, the show was outstanding. Yes, everyone should see it.

Translating Rocks and a Famous Killer No One Knows

Saturday we did two cool things: Visit the British Museum and go on a Jack The Ripper Walking Tour.

The British Museum is one of the most amazing museums in the world! We got to see the Rosetta Stone, which was funny because we didn't recognize it at first. It was like we were right in front of it and saw a bunch of people hovering around it and it never connected. JD walked up to a security guard nearby and asked him where it was and he looked at him with this expression like, "you're a retard" and pointed directly behind him to the crowd.

We had afternoon tea in the museum at the Court Restaurant, sitting at a table that had a view of the famed Reading Room below.

We must have stayed at the Museum for 4 hours or something because when we finally came out, it was dark. We took a nice walk around the neighborhood and decided to have dinner at this Italian restaurant near Earl's Court station.

There was this old guy sitting next to us at the restaurant with this girl who looked like she could be his granddaughter, but of course was his date for the evening. He was so annoying because I kept overhearing him talk about himself and she never said anything. When it was time for us to pay for our meal, this ass of a man leaned over and made a snide remark, asking us why we were shortchanging our server – "didn't you enjoy your food?" What he saw at that moment was us counting out 1 and 2 pound coins so we can give her a fat 25% tip. Dude, when your country's higher denominations come in coin form, you're gonna look cheap no matter what. (In retrospect, we really didn't need to tip our server that much per British custom, but that was beside the point.)

Afterwards, we hurried out to Tower Hill (overlooking the Tower of London) to meet up with our tour group for the Jack the Ripper tour. I was really really excited because our tour guide was Donald Rumbelow, who is renowned as the premier expert on Jack the Ripper history and the case. At the end of the tour, he did a little shameless self-promotion by offering his book for sale. Of course, I bought one and he signed it for us. But no joke, the tour was really great. I'm sure that sounds weird and creepy, and yeah, I'm kinda into famous serial murder histories….

Now I'm sure you're totally creeped out.