Bloody hell, the food sucks But the rest of London was pretty cool

For business reasons, I ventured in August 2006 to London, for a few days of serious software.  Not realizing that my very presence could cause an international incident, since I'm kind of a dick, my company sent me forth to work with partners at the IT center for a very large bank.

I was scheduled to go there, by virtue of unfortunate timing, to travel to Heathrow the week after a big security scare. In preparation, da wife bought me some plastic bags to carry my stuff on the plane. A couple of days before my flight, they eased the rules. I also got a new cell phone. I had a terrible time with Sprint, so I got a new GMS phone with Cingular service.

I also wanted a backup to my Visa, so I reupped my Amex gold card, which I hadn't used in yeeeears. A complete and utter retard took my application over the phone. Seriously, he didn't know what day of the week it was, he couldn't read off the damn scsript they give them, and I had to keep correcting him.

The Tower Bridge at midnight, from the  window of my sixth floor hotel room.

Getting there

With hourly reminders on the tube regarding the security problems, I got scared into showing up at the airport 4 hours early, and then there was NO LINE. So I sat at O'Hare for a nice long time. United wanted $550 to upgrade. I'm glad it wasn't $200, or I would've gone for it. Turns out the plane was 2/3 empty. I had a window seat, but it was right on the wing of the 777, so it wouldn't matter for taking pictures. The whole middle of the plane was open, so I grabbed another seat, lots of room, nobody around me. Good meal, nice and quiet. 

Met a real nice guy who travels the world, managing a ping-pong team. No shit. He was actually very interesting to speak with. Strange coincidence, since I'd spent the last few minutes at home playing ping-pong with my kids.

We took off early, and landed early. Excellent. Nice video selection.Mission Impossible III is sadistic and confusing. Inside Man was great.

I landed around 5:30 am local time. Customs took no time. The cab driver was a f****g kamikaze, I thought I'd get killed. 
 

I checked in early at the Tower Hotel, directly next to the Tower Bridge. The check-in guy had a French accent, and spoke way too softly. Between those two things, I could barely understand him, and he had the nerve to get annoyed with ME.

My room faced out the back, toward St. Katherine's docks. There's a wooden pier out back that all the rats were scrambling around on at night. Since that was one of the few places around the hotel I could get a decent cell phone signal to call home, I got to see the rats every night, playing in the moonlight. BIG goddamn rats.

The internet connection didn't work in the room, so they got me another room on the sicth floor, facing the bridge, a MUCH more interesting view. But the connection didn't work in that room either. They gave me a key to the seventh floor lounge, where the connection worked great. Before it too died. So they finally gave me a card to use their wireless connection in the public areas. They tried telling me that the internet worked in pretty much the whole hotel, but in fact a colleagure who joined me a few days later had the same problem, as had our CEO a few weeks earlier. In other words, the place is fried. A couple of the plugs didn't work in the room. 

The tall blond chick they sent to my first room to check out my internet connection was lovely. The very tall Russian chick who got me the wireless card was GORGEOUS. 

The local wireless provider, Thamesonline.com, didn't like my credit card. And the Starbucks didn't like my T-mobile account. I started getting the impression that nothing in the whole goddamn country worked.

I had one lunch at the hotel restaurant, the Brasserie, spaghetti and meatballs. Very good. But the breakfast at the hotel was TERRIBLE. Awful. Even though breakfast was included with the room rate I paid, I only ate there two mornings. Instead, I would hit the Starbucks behind the place.

English food has a reputation for being bad. This is very true. I ate some real crap there. But here's a few good ones. First, the Vineyard, right by the Tower. Keeps very slim hours, but I had a great bit of ham there. Even better was The Bridge House, which is on the southeast side of Tower Bridge. On one Sunday afternoon, I had the Aubergine-Tomato soup, which was amazing, followed by the Norfolk duck. No shit, this was the best meal I had the entire eight days. On another evening, I had a different duck dish as an appetizer, and that was also fantastic. Their bartenders are all gorgeous, especially one little Polish girl. 

Because I'm such a stinking good Catholic, I stopped for mass at The Roman Catholic Church of the English Martyrs. Beautiful place. 
 

On Friday night, I went to the tube station and met up with the group for the Jack the Ripper Walking Tour. The group was so big, they split it in two, and luckily they brought two hosts. The lady who led the tour was very animated, funny, and knowledgeable. We went by the locations where various victims were found, the church frequented by the prostitutes, the Catholic mission where the last victim was cared for before she went back on the streets, the places where various clues were found, and finally the Ten Bells (the tavern where the victims, the cops, and likely the killer hung out). It's still operating, by the way. A number of people on the tour weren't aware that the tour would end (after 9 pm) a couple of miles from where it started, and they'd have to walk, get a taxi, or negotiate the subway back. I kinda knew my way, so I half walked, half ran back.

N.B. The neighborhoods I walked back through were kinda iffy. But unlike pussy-boy Charlton Heston, I still managed to avoid problems.

On Saturday, I went into the Tower Bridge itself. Went up in the walkways, bought the little booklet about the place, checked out the views and the engine room and the gift shop. Bought some junk for da wife and kids. Pretty cool. Stopped back at my room to download my pics from the digital camera and drop off the souvenirs, then proceeded to walk for about seven hours. Walked along the north side of the Thames. Climbed up the Great Fire monument (got the certificate), stopped at St. Paul's Cathedral, walked Charing Cross Road, Trafalgar Square, and finally over to Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, and Parliament. Then over the Westminster Bridge to the Aquarium, then back along the south side of the Thames. 

The Tower Bridge. My hotel is to the left.

At St. Paul's, some clueless Japanese tourist stopped in the door. I guess it didn't matter to him that there were a whole bunch of people behind him. I said, "Excuse me," and "keep on going," and a few other things, and so did the guy behind me. This clown didn't get the concept of getting the hell out of the way, so I grabbed both shoulders of his jacket and moved the dumb SOB myself. 

On the way back, I stopped at an inadequate little Greek joint called Zakudia's. Instead of chairs, they have what appear to be a series of ottomans, not terribly comfortable after a time. The waitress didn't much grasp English, I think. I ordered a Fidel's Daughter (a foo-foo drink) and a cheeseburger. The drink was too teeny, and the burger turned out to be a big lump of fried meat. Just terrible. Looked nice, tasted like plain cooked meat. Instead of another drink, I asked for a Coke. Instead, she brought me another Fidel's. I corrected her, but they charged me for a second one anyway. I had to get that corrected, and it took them forever to give me a bill. It's like a bunch of kids got together and decided to start a restaurant. Obviously I don't recommend it.

The Tower of London takes a good couple of hours or more to go through. It’s not just a tower, it’s a whole series of buildings. They had a jousting thing going on over the weekend, which was a blast. It’s hard to believe people ever did that for real. Saw the Crown Jewels, ravens as big as turkeys, and a whole lotta history. Got some souvenirs for da wife and kids. It's worth covering every inch of this very historic place.
 
 

Big Ben. I walked through half of London to  reach it. This is the point at which I started  back to the hotel.

Nice folks there. Seriously. Very helpful. Even when they're being nasty and back-stabbing, as some of the people at the customer were, they do it in the nicest possible way. 
 

The big news was the cricket scandal. The Pakistani pitcher was accused of tampering with the ball, ala Phil Niekro. The umps halted the game, handed out a new ball, then the Pakis wouldn’t come back out, then they did, but the umps decided it was too dark to continue, and then the next day they entered into “negotiations” to finish the mtach. The Pakis wouldn’t do it, so it was decided as a forfeit in favor of England. Apparently the pitcher in question was accused of doctoring the ball back in 1992 as well. This was all over the news for three days.

I went the first night into a pub called the Hung, Drawn, and Quartered. Warm beer. Wah!  The second round was from a tap labelled "Served Extra Cold." This means that it was set next to the fridge for five minutes, and was two degrees below room temperature.

Another pub, close to the Tower Bridge, is The Elusive Camel. I discovered that English young people can be as geographically ignorant as Americans. I gave a geography lesson to a young woman who thought that LA and NY are both on east coast. She'd also been to Vancouver, and regretted that she hadn't taken a cab to Toronto while there. I could not convince here that Toronto was not a cab ride away from Vancouver. I even drew a crude map of Canada on a napkin. She thanked me and gave me a kiss. Another interesting thing at this pub was when the bartender asked me about their supply of Coors. She said they were stuck with the stuff, because nobody would buy it, not even the American tourists. I explained to her the pathetic history of Coors and why no self-respecting beer drinker would touch the stuff.

Ed introduced me by email to a friend of a friend, so I called the guy up and he took me around to a handful of pubs. Really nice guy. Had a few, then he dropped me off. I called da wife at two in the morning from the Tower Bridge, to say good night.

Another great pub is Liberty Bounds, north and west of the Tower of London. I bought a cigar, and had a few Stellas. I also browsed t heir library of very old books. They had old books in their bar. Cool.  Lots of pubs also have on the walls reproductions of old gruesome newspaper stories, or little historical tidbits. So much more interesting than all the damn bicycle parts or movie posters at a Bennigan’s.

On TV, I was watching a documentary about Ted Bundy. One of the commercials was for a video called "13 Topless Babes on a Bouncy Castle."  Two comedians oil up a big inflatable model of a castle, and stick a bunch of naked chicks on it. Pretty near.

Right by the St. Katherine's Docks is the Dickens Inn. It looks kinda snazzy outside, but it's actually just a neat old pub.

A colleague took me to an excellent Indian restaurant in the Muslim quarter in Whitechapel. I think it was called Tayyab. Gotta look it up. The proprietors were very attentive. 
 

On the advice of the very good concierge guys at the Tower Hotel, I grabbed a limo (Mel from Benson's Chauffeur Service, a nice guy and also very helpful; gave me great advice for when I bring da wife back) about 9 am, for a 1 pm flight. From showing up until getting to the gate was an hour and three-quarters. Long line to get my boarding pass, another long line to check my bags, then two security lines. Both involved a bag search. The second involved a very thorough body search. About fifty minutes before the flight, they finally put up the gate number on the screen, and informed us that it would take roughly ten minutes to reach the gate. Well, bullshit. I stood in line for the gate for 35 minutes, slowly moving through yet another security line and bag check. Once at the gate, we were sent down a staircase, and were suddenly OUTSIDE THE BUILDING, in an obviously non-secure area. Cabs going by, cab drivers standing around smoking, baggage guys. So after three security lines, we were dumped outside to wait for a bus. A frigging joke.