London Calling

I have become increasingly engrossed, engulfed and consumed by my grad school applications and the terror they induce. My mind is adrift in a sea of questions. None of which I have any desire to attempt to begin to answer here.

Instead I prefer to focus on the event I have been waiting for since the second I stepped foot on American soil: my return trip to London. Exactly one week from today I will board a plane to Detriot...then spend 7 hours at Wayne County Metropolitan Airport...and then board a plane to London's Gatwick Airport. I can wait for the 7 hour layover (I'm still not sure how my mom managed that one, but beggars can't be choosers), but I'm almost to the point of an hourly countdown for my arrival in L-town.

Despite the progress I am making here in the good ol' US of A, I can't wait until I can feel like I'm home again.

Let's Pollute!

Correct me if I'm wrong, but America is the world leader in pollution, right?

Now, I am by no means an enviromentalist. I've been known to litter, I don't always recycle, I happily drive my mom's SUV and I take long showers. But after having a fairly heated discussion with my parents the other evening (who are card carrying Republicans) I have become much more aware of how ignorant Americans are when it comes to matters that concern the rest of the world. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents and consider them to be two of the most intelligent people that I know, and really, I don't blame them because "when they own the information they can bend it all they want". Americans just aren't getting the same news the rest of the world is.

With this in mind, I was extremely appalled when I went to the grocery store yesterday and was given 3 (!) plastic bags for 7 items. Yes, I did say plastic when Joe check-out boy asked (Hey, I re-use the bags as garbage bags), but never did I imagine that Joe was going to go so overboard. Seriously, are plastic bags going out of style and I was just not informed?! I guess I've learned my lesson, it's paper only for me from here on out.

Sad? I think so!

Saturday night at the Beard house and what's going on? The rents are out at a party while I'm home sitting on my butt watching Desparate Housewives. I'm in bed by 11:30 and they aren't home until almost 2. They spend the afternoon napping because they're "tired" (I think that is grown-up code for hungover). Although they are adamant that they aren't - sure, that's what we all say!

The bright side? There apparently is life after 50.

Downtown Driving and "British" Pubs

Tonight I ventured into downtown Boston to meet up with a friend from London newly (and temporarily) relocated to the US. As she is a Boston native I left the location up to her and she promptly suggest a British pub, Elephant and Castle, appropriately located on Devonshire Road. Equipped with my Acura's GPS system, I was confident that I could make it to said pub without any difficulties. Wrong!

Mr. GPS voice-man is confusing as hell. He tells you to stay right and then you are suddenly off the route. He tells you to take the second left, there is no second left! The screen shows you the names of the streets, but there ain't no way you are reading street names in downtown Boston at night, during the end of rush hour. I'm concentrating on staying alive and keeping my car from being hit, not on trying to read non-existant street names. However, after about half an hour of driving around the same square mile of one way streets, I finally found myself on Devonshire Road.

Helen was already at the bar when I arrived, a pint of London Pride in hand. A good start. Suspending reality for a few minutes, I felt like I was home again. But then it struck me, it just wasn't right. There wasn't a cloud of smoke covering every table, Justin Timberlake was pumping over the sound system, everyone was American, the menu offered bangers and mash with baked beans (I know, what??) and the carpet was far too clean. But...some of my favorite beers were on tap and I left not smelling like an ashtray. Despite the inaccuracies, the overall feel was right, my pint of Hoegaarden was huge and my fish and chips was just as good as any I've had in London (See, I can find the positive side of things). Sure, it could have been better, but probably only if it was in London, so I guess it was as good as it could get.