Drift Reality

Towards the end of my time in London in 2006, I got a small group of friends and acquaintances together and produced a short film based on a reverie I had about five years ago when I was living in San Diego.

I got a call in the middle of the night from a friend who had been pulled over by the police. The person that had been driving the car had pulled it over at the first site of sirens, and then dashed into the woods nearby, leaving my friend behind. The police officer refused to let my friend leave because she was intoxicated but allowed her to call me to pick her up.

Annoyed that I had been awakened, I got into my car and began driving over. While on the empty San Diego highways, this strange story began to play out in my head completely unprovoked.

Five years later I decided I wanted to produce the story in video so I wrote up a short screenplay and asked some people I knew to help me. I don’t think anyone clearly understood what the story was about although they all had the good grace not to poke fun at me for wanting to produce an incomprehensible short.

At any rate, the video is split into three parts. In Part 1 of the Phoenix and the Lion, a man is eating pills while poring over a photograph of someone he once knew. He lays down in his bed. Before he falls asleep, he makes a phone call.

In another part of town, a dark-haired woman awakens from a bad dream she was having. She moves over to the sink and begins mulling over something while she inspects her reflection in the mirror.

I’m a huge X-Men fan. I used to read the comic book when I was a teenager and I really enjoyed the first two films, which were directed by Brian Singer. Several months ago, when I found out X-Men 3 was coming to theaters I started getting extremely excited and began reading anything I could about the upcoming film.

After waiting a few days for the initial reviews to come out and deciding that the film wasn’t a total disaster, I decided to head to the Odeon cinema on Tottenham Court road to watch an afternoon screening of X-Men 3.

Let me start out by saying that X-Men 3 is the experiential equivalent of going on a date with a beautiful girl and then finding out that “she” is really a “he.” Then you get food poisoning at dinner and the man-woman takes you back to his/her place and ties you up and whips you for several hours. Finally, you pass out in a fit of agony and when you wake up, you realize that you are lying in a random ditch in Bombay, India, with an acute pain in your bottom. After selling your internal organs for enough money to buy airfare, you return home to realize that the man-woman has stolen your identity and your friends and family love him/her more than you.

That is the experiential equivalent of watching X-Men 3.

If you integrate the Odeon-factor into the experience, then you realize that you would have been better off spending your afternoon putting birdseed in your eye sockets and lying down in the middle of Trafalgar Square.

Just in case you were wondering, the Odeon-factor is showing up for a 3:55 PM screening, paying $12.50, and sitting through 30 F#@&ING MINUTES OF ADS.

I’m not even joking. It is disgusting. I literally kept looking at my watch because I wanted to come home and write about how I had to sit through 30 minutes of commercials before they would play this piece of crap film.

So why was the film bad? It is about 10:21 PM (GMT) right now. I want to get to bed by 1 AM so there is absolutely no way I would be able to write about every little thing that irked me about this film so I’m going to limit myself to five things I hated about X-Men 3:

1. I hated the plot of X-Men 3

There is a US government-supported anti-mutant campaign; Magneto wants to respond to the US government plot violently while Xavier stresses the need for diplomacy; Rogue laments her powers; Wolverine experiences internal strife; and Jean Gray dies at the end. Yup – that’s the basic gist of X-Men 2. Unfortunately, all those things happen in X-Men 3 also.

Sometimes it is cool if different things happen in a sequel. The film would have been more original if they had just taken X-Men 2 and re-dubbed it so everyone had French accents. I’m not even joking when I saw I would have enjoyed it more this way.

The only discernable difference is that they throw in a random assortment of mutants with lame powers. One mutant’s power is that he vomits black liquid on people. I can name three people in my student hall who have this same ‘power’. Next time they want to think about adding new mutants to the film, they should bring in a consultant, like a five-year old kid for instance.

2. I hated the dialogue in X-Men 3

During Pyro and Ice Man’s climactic battle, Pyro just about has Ice Man on the ropes when he proclaims, “Looks like you should have stayed at school.” In a burst of power, Ice Man “ices up” and defeats Pyro.

His come back?

“Looks like you shouldn’t have left.”

Errr…I thought comebacks were supposed to be cool. He should have said that comeback when he was losing the fight, then Pyro would have been so befuddled that his head would have exploded and he would have died instantaneously. My head is about to explode just thinking about it.

The other thing line I really hated occurs in the final battle scene, when Wolverine is about to kill Jean Gray. She asks, “You would die for them?” Wolverine responds with, “No, I would die for you.” Then he kills her.

Is it just me or doesn’t it seem nonsensical to say you would die for someone and then kill them immediately afterwards? Maybe he should have said something like “I’ll love you forever Jean,” and then grabbed Callisto and started boning her in the middle of the battle. Alternatively, maybe he could have said, “Jean, I won’t let you do this,” and then given up and sat down Indian style while Jean destroyed the island.

Here is some advice to the producers: put some effort into writing the screenplay next time.

3. I hated the characters in X-Men 3

Every X-Man fan realizes that the Phoenix is bad-ass. Also, when the Phoenix displays her powers, she looks like a sexy crazy woman who is immersed in flames that are shaped like a Phoenix.

So why in X-Men 3 does the Phoenix look like Lindsay Lohan after a weekend of cocaine and bulimia?

The following things additionally irk me about characters in the film: Wolverine is getting boring; Colossus doesn’t have a Russian accent; Beast sounds like he spends weekends at the Blue Oyster Bar (from Police Academy); Angel probably accompanies Beast to the Blue Oyster Bar and serves as his bitch; Storm’s character is one-dimensional; Professor Xavier seemed like a curmudgeon.

4. I hated the lack of logic in X-Men 3

Let me get this straight. Magneto has enough power to lift the Golden Gate Bridge and move it so that it connects to Alcatraz, where the Mutant treatment center is located. Then, the evil mutants begin to storm Alcatraz, where they are stopped by the X-Men.

I’ve got one question: Instead of dropping the Golden Gate Bridge in front of Alcatraz, why not put in the extra effort and simply drop it on Alcatraz?

Problem solved.

Here is another question I had: When the “Brotherhood” of Evil Mutants begins fighting with the X-Men, why doesn’t Magneto just instantaneously kill Wolverine and Colossus? For an evil genius, he certainly seems to lack common sense throughout the film.

Also, how does Wolverine leave Xavier’s school on a motorcycle in one scene and suddenly appear in the forests of northern California in the next? Did everyone just stop what they were doing while Wolverine drove cross-country on a motorcycle for a week?

Come to think of it, they could have made half the movie about Wolverine’s road trip and I would have been happier with the end result. During his road trip, they could have tracked what the individual mutants were doing at the mansion. Storm could have taken Rogue and Kitty Pryde out for a weekend in Manhattan. Maybe Colossus and Ice Man could have gone to a strip club in Jersey, where Ice Man gets the clap.

At least the film would have been original.

5. I hated what the film did for the X-Men Legacy

Not that the X-Men haven’t become overly commodified already, but they really took it to new heights in this film. They basically kowtowed to Halle Barry’s demands; succumbed to market research that said “more Wolverine”; and made the terrible decision to haphazardly introduce and kill multiple mutants because they figured it would be exciting.

I remember when I was a young teenager, the X-Men represented a form of enlightened escapism, a process through which I would immerse myself in their world and extend my imagination beyond it. In my own world that was unfriendly in its own right, I empathized with these characters and perhaps that was the overall message, communicated not in grandiose rhetoric (despite what Brett Ratner might think) but through the small machinations of everyday life.

Along the way, the producers at FOX forgot that X-Men is about the characters, not about the effects, and not about quantity of mutant characters. It is about the love triangle between Jean Gray, Cyclopes, and Wolverine; it is about the struggles of the younger X-Men to deal with adolescence while trying to come to terms with their powers; it is about Peter Rasputin’s introverted nature and his artwork; about Rogue’s rough domestic life; Xavier and Magneto’s contrasting paradigms of resistance; Nightcrawler’s search for love despite his outward appearance; Storm’s struggle with being a leader.

The X-Men is about stories of young men and women with extraordinary gifts, and the various ways in which they deal with these gifts and appropriate their talent into their everyday lives. It is about their search to find an ordinary life despite their extraordinary powers in a world that often can be unfriendly and dangerous. It is about the banalities in extraordinariness.

This was the potential for X-Men 3 and it is the fact that what we got was so far away from what we could have gotten, which pisses me off. What we’re left with is a film that will be forgotten within 2 hours of seeing it.

And I’m out $12.50.

I was walking back from my gym near the UCL campus earlier today when I was startled by a rustling sound coming from the park directly adjacent to where I was walking. I turned to my right and was shocked to see a fox staring at me through the fence that surrounded the park.

It is a funny thing, the exhilarating realization that you are looking at a species for the first time, mingled with a sort of sense that what you are looking at is completely out of place. Mind you, its immediate frame made sense: grass and bushes. It was the superimposition of the chain metal fence that set the image of the fox amiss.

It was also the presence of the chain fence that made me realize that I didn’t have to run away shrieking like a school girl.

The fox looked directly at me and gingerly stepped forward. I stared at the crack underneath the fence and swiftly realized there was no way the fox was going to be able to lunge at me and bite my nuts off, so I relaxed. The fox took another step forward and began gnawing at something in the ground. I gazed incredulously at the creature only five feet in front of me.

It was funny that my third instinct – after wonderment and fear – was to swivel my head around and find someone to share the experience with. To my right I saw a tall guy with curly hair, who I recognized from my gym, walking towards the fox and myself. My mind flashed back to several weeks ago, when I had observed the guy practicing taekwondo kicks in front of the mirror and I quickly decided to look in the opposite direction while the guy passed by without batting an eye.

A young girl was walking towards me from the other direction. She slowed down as she approached, realizing there was some reason that I was standing in front of a fenced-off park desperately turning my head as if wanting to share a secret with someone.

“Say,” I blurted. “Have you ever seen a fox here before?”

A bemused grin overtook her face as she responded: “No, not in London.”

Good - she had a British accent. If anyone would know what was going on in this God forsaken city it was her.

“I wonder how it got here,” I asked.

“It probably knew that there wasn’t anyone in the park.”

I suddenly realized that the park had been closed for renovations for the past month or so. Where the hell could it have come from? Regents Park?

Looking back to the fox, I realized it looked more scrawny than the images I had seen in photos. “Is it okay?” I asked.

I’m not entirely sure why I felt that she was the expert on foxes, but I continued my barrage of questions before she had a chance to answer. “Are they normally that skinny?”

I made sure to emphasize my American accent, just to make it clear that I wasn’t intrinsically stupid, just unaware of urban wildlife in London.

“I’m not really sure,” she responded, with a slight chuckle.

We both stood there for several more moments before the fox dashed off into another part of the park.

“I hope its okay,” I answered.

“Yeah,” the girl responded. We both stood awkwardly for several more moments before she began moving.

“Well, bye,” she said.

I didn’t respond as she walked away. It just seemed like a peculiar thing to do.

After she left, my first thought was to go to the student hall cafeteria and get some food for the fox (which did seem a little undernourished). I realized that the cafeteria was probably closed and the fox would probably have disappeared anyway by the time I returned.

My second thought, obviously, was that the fox in the park was a sign from God that I shouldn’t worry about the fact that I scored a “low merit” on one of my papers today because the teacher (I’m not going to call her a professor) mistook “creativity” for a “lack of structure.”

Then again, people get confused every day. After all, someone decided to give her a job at a prestigious University. We all make mistakes.

At any rate, I recall a speech that a professor (a real one) gave at the Next Generation Entrepreneurs Forum in Monaco, which I attended several months ago. I remember him passionately explaining how the institute of academia crushes creativity and individualism. I remember him stating how his litany of failures encompassed his greatest learning experiences, which had helped him develop and evolve as a person.

The context of his message was the spirit of entrepreneurship begins with a realization that there is a deep pattern, a schenkerian pattern, which underlies all the shitty little passing notes and accidentals of everyday life.

You can agonize over the fact that someone criticized your work because you didn’t have “good transitions between ideas,” or you can say “to hell with it,” and look at something bigger.

My first day in this program, I got up in front of the department and asked if we were allowed to put together a documentary film in lieu of a written dissertation. The lecture convener reacted as though I had gotten up and diarrhead on my desk.

“Err…you need to follow the departmental guidelines on the dissertation, although you are welcome to submit supplementary materials.” (Translation: shut up and stop asking stupid questions).

The park in the middle of London is about the size of a city block. It has nothing for the fox except for maybe a few scraps of food that have been left behind. It is confined and limiting in what it allows the fox to do.

The fox looks out of place in the park because his natural habitat is the forest. If he wants any action, that’s where he must go.

Editor’s Note: In general, the restaurant and club reviews that I post to Drift Reality are my own work. In this case, a close friend of mine who accompanied me to The Goose pub in Bloomsbury did such a phenomenal job encapsulating our experience that I figured it might be better to just post her review.

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To whom it may concern,

I would like to advise you of, what I believe is the most appalling customer service and rudeness that I have encountered at a London pub.

Yesterday evening, three friends and my husband and myself were meeting at The Goose for dinner and drinks. We all live in Bloomsbury, and often to go The Goose for a drink or lunch during the week and dinner on Sunday nights. As we frequent the venue quite regularly, I was very surprised with our encounter there last night.

We met at 7pm for dinner, and went to the upstairs bar. The sign on the outside door of the pub indicated that food was being served until 10:00pm. At about 7:20pm we went to the bar to order dinner. One member of our party’s order for food was put through (an ultimate burger), and then the bartender then looked at my husband for his order. Out of courtesy, he offered for the other lady in our party to be served first. She put through an order (one bangers and mash, one ultimate burger and chicken wings). My husband then went to order our meals immediately after (we were all standing at the bar together) and was told by the lady at the bar that the kitchen was closed as they ran out of food. This meant that three members of our party were going to get food, however the other two were not able to order. The lady at the bar said that there was nothing she could do about it.

I then went to the downstairs bar to inquire. I was told that unfortunately the kitchen was closed as they had run out of stock. I said that half of our party had ordered, and two people were left without food. They just said they could do nothing about it. Another lady then came up and said it had been a really busy week, and they were low on stock - they only had ingredients for 3 meals on the menu left. I said, that’s fine - can you let me know what the 3 meals are so that I might choose to order them. I was then told no, because it was ‘just easier’ if the kitchen closed down. I then asked whether it would be possible, as 3 of our party have ordered, for us to go out and buy some food and bring it in to eat with our friends. I was told I could not do this.

I found it quite strange that there were enough ingredients for 2 ultimate burgers, but not 4 and also, if they had completely run out of chips (they kept telling me that they had run out of chips and baguettes), why were there chips with the burgers?

I found it appalling that no-one was even willing to compromise or help out. The kitchen clearly had food, as they had told me that there was food left, but instead of allowing 2 more orders through (and we would have just ordered whatever was left) everyone just said ‘too bad’, the kitchen decided to close and there is nothing we can do about it.

In any case, the food arrived and the burgers were missing some of the ingredients stated on the menu. This might not have been an issue if we were told at the time of ordering that some ingredients had run out, but we weren’t. At this stage, with half of our party not having food and then the orders not being what we expected, we asked to see the manager. The person who came to speak to us, was the rudest person I have ever encountered in customer service. He blatantly just stood there and said that he had to close the kitchen and what did we want him to do about it? I am sorry, but it should really be for a bar manager to come to us and offer us options of what could be done - not stand there and just stubbornly reply there was nothing he could do about it and what did we want? We eventually managed to get a refund from the manager, but this was after a long discussion with no other options offered by him, and was definitely our least preferred option - we would have rathered simply 2 meals so that we could all eat together, which was why we went out to dinner in the first place.

I would appreciate a reply to this comment in relation to your current policies on customer service and whether you believe that the situation that happened to our party was acceptable.

Yours sincerely

Rochelle Carey

I would like to preface this story by stating that I am a heterosexual.

That being said, last night, the Drunken Diva Wheelchair Club (DDWC) of John Adams Hall held their inaugural event. It started when a couple friends and I returned to the halls inebriated after an evening in Soho, feeling somewhat unfilled and unprepared to go to bed at 2AM.

Walking in, we found Aphrodite, a young Greek girl who had broken her ankle and was confined to a wheelchair, sitting on the staircase looking sad. When prodded about her morose nature, she admitted her broken ankle was getting her down.

“Have you considered drugs?” I asked innocently. “Maybe some codeine?”

The question was ignored as my friend George started asking Aphrodite to sing, as she was an operatic vocalist back in Greece.

“No, I don’t feel like it,” she responded, but we persisted. Eventually, we managed to convince her to come to George’s room and sing for us.

After a few moments of nervousness, she began singing with one of the most incredible voices I’ve ever heard live. It was an old Greek song that she had known from childhood.

After she was finished, there was complete silence. I think George may have even been crying a bit. Suddenly, the three of us burst into applause as Aphrodite smiled nervously.

“Another,” we shouted.

“I want to sing something in English so you will understand me,” she said to Mike and me.

Mike asked her to sing Andrew Lloyd Weber, but unfortunately, she admitted that she did not know the lyrics to the song. Suddenly, her eyes lit up as she said, “Oh, I know the song from Titanic. I just don’t know how it starts.”

Without hesitation, I began my best impersonation of Celine Dion and she quickly joined in. Throughout the next hour, we collectively sang (or rather, Aphrodite sang while the three of us whined like banshees) Toni Braxton and then Whitney Houston’s classic, “I will always love you,” from the Bodyguard soundtrack, during which time I picked George up and began carrying him around the room, bringing to mind Kevin Costner’s classic pose where he is cradling Whitney Houston in his arms.

The night came to a crashing halt when the Hall manager came and yelled at us. Sadly, we all departed for our rooms but not before we made a pact never to tell anyone of what happened that fateful night.

Several days ago, a student society I work with threw a party at Metra Club and Bar in Leicester Square. The party itself was incredible fun. The thing that dampened the mood was the terrible service.

First off, I was greeted at the door by a Metra employee who looked like and evil Leprechaun and sounded a little like Chewbacca. After spending 10 minutes trying to explain that I was affiliated with the society throwing the party, and therefore didn’t have to pay, he passed me on to a guy who looked like he was on his way to audition to be an extra in Boys n the Hood until he opened his mouth and had a British accent. Thankfully, one of the society members was standing near the entrance and came over and somehow managed to explain that I should be let in for free. The doormen grudgingly acceded and I walked in.

I was happy to see a good crowd of people in the bar and chatted with some friends for a few minutes before deciding to grab a drink. Fortunately, it was still happy hour and cocktails were £2.50, so I ordered a drink for a friend and myself.

“That will be £13.50,” said the bartender.

“Excuse me?” I responded.

“£13.50 for two gin and tonics,” he shot back unflinchingly.

As he explained to me, it turns out that you have to explicitly ask for the “happy hour” prices when you order the drinks. Otherwise, they mix you doubles and charge you £6.75. After he explained this, something still didn’t make any sense to me.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “So what you’re telling me is that it is £2.50 for a single. If I don’t ask for the “happy hour” special, then you give me a double, but the double costs £1.75 more than two singles?”

“Yes,” he responded.

“Okay, well, I’m going to give you £10 right now,” I shot back.

“Okay, give me £10,” he responded.

I shook my head while handing over the cash. After that conversation, I was going to need the double.

The rest of the night actually went fairly well, mostly because I didn’t have to interact with anyone who worked at Metra.

Until I was on my way out.

I threw my hat on and started walking towards the exit. As I passed a bouncer, he tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to my hat.

“You’re not allowed to wear hats in here,” he said.

“That’s okay, I’m leaving,” I responded.

“Well, you still have to take it off.”

I sat and stared at him for a few moments, wondering how the bouncer managed to survive to adulthood. Shaking my head, I took my hat off for all of 10 seconds before putting it back on as I walked up the stairs towards the exit.

Bottom line – don’t waste your time or money by going to Metra. The people who work there are complete idiots and if the management had any sense, they would immediately fire all of them.

Recently, one of the visitors to the site told me she would be backpacking through Europe and asked if I had any advice for her. I figure I would share some of my insights with everyone.

Dear _______,

Congratulations on deciding to go backpacking through Europe for a month. I’m sure you must be extremely excited. Europe is a diverse, culturally rich continent and I am confident you will have the experience of a lifetime.

I’m flattered you would ask for my advice regarding your trip. I’ve compiled a list of ten basic tips that should get you through your trip in one piece:

1. Bring dental floss and deodorant. It is not easy to find these items, or any other sort of non-soap toiletry throughout Europe.

2. On a related noted, you may want to be prepared for a slight “difference” in the way people smell over in Europe.

3. Don’t hide your American accent; play it up. People around the world think we are stupid, so we might as well use this to our advantage. I’ve personally gotten out of numerous bus fares by simply saying (in a thick American accent), “Aww shucks, I didn’t realize you had to pay that much here. What can I do?” After being looked at like I was a mentally handicapped child, I’ve been allowed to hop off the bus without paying.

4. Prepare to gain weight. After you leave England, you should be prepared for some of the best food of your life. Actually, you’ll probably be gaining weight even in England. Anything tastes good after you’ve had 8 pints of beer. Even British food.

5. If you aren’t adventurous when it comes to food, don’t worry. There are Starbucks and McDonalds throughout Europe. Even in Paris, where people hate Americans, there is a French man wearing a beret on every corner, eating a Big Mac. The only difference between Paris and the US is that the French man is taking breaks from eating his burger to puff on his cigarette and curse the United States.

6. Once you get down to the Mediterranean, make sure not to eat dinner until about 10 PM. If you eat dinner at 6 PM and then start drinking afterwards, you will be an absolute wreck by the time you get out to the clubs at 10. So basically, at 11, when people are first starting to get to the clubs, you will be dancing on the bar like a circus monkey. This will just make it harder for the next Americans who visit to be taken seriously.

7. When you are in England, don’t speak to or look at anybody because it upsets them. They will take out their anger by promptly heading to the nearest pub and drinking for the next 5 hours while grumbling under their breath. Actually on second though, speak to and look at everybody.

8. If you are a female, watch out for men when you are in Europe – especially the Mediterranean countries. They will sexually harass you and then try to marry you.

9. Before you even think about approaching anyone in Italy, ask yourself this question: “What brand shirt are you wearing?” If the answer is “GAP, American Eagle, Abercrombie & Fitch, or J. Crew,” just forget about it.

10. If I can leave you with one last piece of advice it is this: You are an American. You are a symbol of freedom and democracy throughout the world. Now patch that maple leaf on your shirt and go get ‘em!

There are moments in my life when I step back and with a sense of relief, remember that at my core I am an immature moron.

About a week ago, I received a blast e-mail informing me of an upcoming art exhibit. The thematic focus of the exhibit was on global warming and the degradation of the environment. They were even serving only free trade refreshments at the event.

I just couldn’t help myself.

The following is an e-mail exchange between me and the event organizer:
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Dear Event Coordinator,

Just to clarify, is the event in favor of or against the destruction of the environment?

Regards,
J. Wei
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Hi,

That is a funny question to ask. Seeing as how this is climate change awareness week and the sponsoring planet is an environmental group, one might safely assume that the exhibit is focused on raising awareness of environmental destruction and climate change, which is generally viewed as a terrible thing.

Regards,
Event Coordinator
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Dear Event Coordinator,

Don’t you think it is a little judgmental to say that climate change is a terrible thing? Where is your evidence for this claim? That being said, I’m excited to see the exhibit.

Sincerely,
J.Wei
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Greetings,

I’m pleased to hear of your interest in the exhibition. As I am just the event coordinator, and not a member of the environmental group, I am not really an expert on climate change and the destruction of the environment. However, this article from a reputable publication, The Guardian, may shed some light on the topic.

Regards,
Event Coordinator
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Dear Event Coordinator,

I read the article and it does mention some of the negative repercussions of global warming; but I think it is one-sided in that it ignores all the benefits of global warming. For instance, there are many people in cold climates who die of hypothermia. Global warming could potentially help these people, don’t you think? Also, many homeless people die each year because they don’t have enough heat. Global warming could also benefit them. Are you saying you don’t care about homeless people?

Regards,
J. Wei
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Greetings,

I appreciate your input on this important issue and realize that everyone is entitled to their own point of view. There are a variety of perspectives on environmental issues such as the destruction of the rainforest, air and water pollution, spreading of diseases, increasing rates of obesity as a result of the over-commodification of food, and countless others.

True, the growth of industries results in lowered unemployment rates, producing organic food requires a greater effort than commercial products, and we would have to completely overhaul our lives and our society if we are to have a positive effect on the world, and this would result in the loss of (God forbid) profit.

In my opinion, there are no benefits to climate change. It would take a gazillion years of global warming to help homeless people on the streets but only a few decades for the polar caps to melt. You may also have noted the increase in natural disasters in the past year.

Ignore these events if you would like, but you may also want to consider why these things are happening and what we might have to do with it.

“Benefits of global warming” is an oxymoron, but everyone is entitled to their own opinion and choosing whatever path in life they decide.

Regards,

Event Coordinator
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Dear Event Coordinator,

Did the dinosaurs have anything to do with the ice age? They all were wiped out due to the environment. Maybe if they had some global warming, they would still be around.

Also, there is no such number as “gazillion,” as far as I know.

J. Wei

I was happily minding my own business on a Thursday evening when all of a sudden I heard what sounded like gunshots, coming from the park near my house. My eyes widened as I turned towards my companion and asked, “Was that a gun shot?”

“Nah,” he responded. “I think a car must have back-fired.”

We continued back to our hall and I didn’t think about the situation again until later that night, when I was awoken at 12 AM by what sounded like more gun shots.

Now, if I lived in Southeast DC, this might not seem quite as bizarre; but the fact that I live in England, where it is illegal to possess a handgun, made me wonder what the hell was going on.

The next day at breakfast, I was told by a Brit that they were fireworks in celebration of the British holiday, Guy Fawkes’ Day. After a bit more prodding, I found out that Guy Fawkes’ Day is dedicated to a failed plot to burn down Parliament.

Now, there are a few things I don’t quite understand about this holiday. First off, doesn’t it seem a bit strange that England has a national holiday dedicated to an averted disaster? I mean, shouldn’t you dedicate holidays to something that you actually do – I don’t know, like say, win your independence?

Then again, I guess England was the country that every other country was winning their independence from so it puts them in a bit of an awkward situation.

Intrigued by what I felt to be an asinine holiday, I did a bit of and learned that the plot involved blowing up the House of Lords by detonating 2.5 tons of gunpowder, hidden in the cellar.

Here is the grabber: In order to gain access to the House of Lords, Fawkes and his accomplices laid out an ingenious and masterful plan:

They rented a room under Parliament and put 2.5 tons of gunpowder in it.

Let me repeat that.

They rented a room under Parliament and put 2.5 tons of gunpowder in it.

There was no digging tunnels underneath the House; no elaborate scheme to blackmail a member of parliament in exchange for access. They didn’t even pay off a janitor to let them in late at night.

They rented the room! Only in England would conspirators have the decency to rent a room before they load it up with gun powder.

Guy Fawkes: I say my good man, how can we get Catholicism back in good stead in this fine country?
Accomplice: Well, there’s sure to be loads of Protestants at Parliament, aren’t there? Maybe we could just blow it up?
Guy Fawkes: Brilliant! Now that’s an idea if I’ve ever heard one. So, chap, how do we go about blowing them up?
Accomplice: Well, we just put a load of gun powder under Parliament and then light it on fire!
Guy Fawkes: Splendid, I’ll call and see if they have any rooms available for rent. I do think Lord Hawkings may be able to get us a good rate on an office suite with a side tea-room. Fancy a pint?

At any rate, one of the co-conspirators was concerned about the lives of several Catholics at the State Opening of Parliament, and leaked details of the conspiracy to the local authorities.

Guy Fawkes was promptly arrested, tortured, and finally drawn and quartered as was the fashion back then.

Now, on November 5 of each year, young and old British citizens celebrate by shooting fireworks and creating bonfires, upon which effigies of Guy Fawkes are burned.

I want to finish with a snappy line, but I can’t think of one because I’m so confused about this holiday.

I’ve been in London for just under a month and I am finally starting to feel settled in. I’m experiencing the same phenomenon that I produced a video about when I started settling into life in Korea. Then, the point at which I realized I might actually be adjusting was when I took a trip to the ridiculously crowded Namdaemun market.

The point at which I realized I might be getting to the point where I go through a day without feeling like strangling someone in London, involved delivering a letter from the post office.

That’s it.

I managed to deliver a letter from the post office.

Never mind the fact that the reason I was delivering the letter was to give my bank in the United States permission to wire a student loan I had received from my University in London, which they had received from a US lender, to a bank account I had opened in the United Kingdom, so I could pay my tuition at my University in London. (Don’t even try to make any sense of this.)

The fact that I woke up in the morning with a goal that was heavily reliant on a British institution (the postal system), and accomplished that goal in under a day, means that I’m starting to get the hang of things here.

The fact that there wasn’t a two-hour long queue at the post office was just icing on the cake.

Not only have I gradually begun to become adjusted to the pervasive inefficiency here, but I’ve also started to become adjusted to the fact that I am living in second-world accommodations.

Wasn’t it Buddha who said that suffering is caused by attachment to worldy things? I think there is really something to that although I also think that the Buddha probably never stayed in British student halls; ate in a British student hall cafeteria with a Nazi kitchen staff; and had to walk up and down a filthy crowded British street to school every day, dodging all manners of cars, pigeons, and Brits.

Actually, come to think of it, Buddha pretty much walked around all day barefoot, wearing a sheet and sitting under trees, while people gave him food and listened to him blab.

I digress. My point is that I think throughout the first few weeks of my stay in London I was still attached to the idea of living in a beautiful three-bedroom townhouse in Northwest DC. I was attached to the idea of going out to dinner whenever I wanted, driving to meet friends whenever I wanted, and going shopping whenever I wanted.

Finally, I’m starting to get over those attachments and face the reality of my current situation. I’m learning to accept the fact that things move at a less efficient pace over here – If I want to do laundry, I have to slot out two hours of my day to do laundry because not only will there probably be a line to do laundry, there is also a good chance that the laundry machine will be broken which means I will have to walk several blocks to a nearby Laundromat.

I’m also learning to accept the notion that nothing is a guarantee here – not even something as little as sending a letter from a post office. What might initially seem like an innocuous trip to the post office has the potential to turn into a day-long excursion (which is why I was so pleasantly surprised when things went smoothly at the post office this morning.)

Now that I’ve accepted these things, I feel like my eyes have shifted away from what I don’t have, and onto what I do have.

I spend my days listening to world-renown Professors speak on topics I’m fascinated with; and I spend my evenings reading about these topics, and discussing them with some of the most intelligent students from around the world.

God, I sound like a University shill, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that now that I’ve gotten over obsessing over what I don’t have, I am finally realizing that every day is full of new and exciting people, concepts, and experiences.

And I remember why it was that I decided to come here in the first place.