Mind your P's and Q's
Why should I mind my P's and Q's, you ask? Well, the origin of the phrase is... honestly I don't feel like writing it out. If you haven't heard the story, I recommend wikipedia. But it is relevant to today. Because at one point Jessie and I wound up in a pub and definitely DID NOT mind our P's and Q's. But we'll get to that.
So we woke up late this morning. And by this morning I mean yesterday morning. Because it's 5:30 in the morning and I just got home. Wooooooo.
After waking up we went to the Post Office to run an errand. Because we're RESPONSIBLE GIRLS. That was for you Mom. After the Post Office we got majorly rained on. Because it's London and that's how London rolls. We ran into a kitchen supply shop and asked them where we could get afternoon tea. The lady told us to go to Piccadilly. Off we went with nary a qualm.
We found Piccadilly and were struck with the realization that: this is where we should have been the whole time. It was bustling. We found a visitor information center and asked them where to get tea. The lady there helped us set something up, she was super nice. Except for she kept asking us if we wanted scoins. Turns out she meant scones. Don't worry. We corrected her. Also, the visitor information place was right next to a Cinnabon. Which was fortuitous because, who doesn't like a good cinnabon?
Immediately after scarfing a cinnabon, we walked to afternoon tea. Naturally, we walked right past where we were aiming and ended up in Trafalgar Square by accident. Don't worry, we took awkward pictures.
We did an about face and found the Haymarket Hotel where we managed to procure afternoon tea. We spent hours drinking Oolong tea and eating scoins and tiny sandwiches. UNLIMITED scoins and tiny sandwiches. Be jealous.
After tea we went back to the visitor information center and purchased our tickets to: Enron, the musical. At least, I think it was a musical. There was some music involved.
So, Enron. I invested a lot in the show (monetarily, emotionally, grammatically) and so I was already more than setup to be let down. However, in spite of this predisposition the show was actually really good. It spoke to Jessie and me in a very real way. We've been struggling to find meaning in our future jobs and the show was a fascinating commentary on the pointlessness of an existence devoted to the production of intangibles. More fodder for our depressingly existential conversations. Great.
Also, I promised I'd explain the title. Before the show, we stopped in a pub for a brrr and sydrrrr. Don't ask, that's just how we're saying beer and cider. We don't feel the way we did when we got here. So we asked her for a beer and a cider. And she responded "so you want half and half". Because we're stupid Americans, we thought she was planning on mixing the two. So we argued with her back and forth for an unnecessarily long time. Then, a benevolent englishman at the bar gently informed us that she was asking if we wanted two half pints. Of course we did NOT want two half pints. Full pints only for us, thankyouverymuch. The transaction was awkward, embarassing and insulting. I.e. exactly what we intended.
After Enron we wandered to find dinner. On the way, a promoter stopped us and talked up this club. I was down but Jessie was hungry. So we found food. I'm embarassed to say, we ate at McDonald's. I think the last time I had McDonald's for dinner, I was in Rome. Jessie wanted fries and the food in England sucks. Don't judge me.
After McDonald's we wandered around Piccadilly and this other promoter tried to lead us up to the club. But we wanted coffee. He told us to get stamped and then we could leave and come back. (Something about entry being cheaper before 11? Idk.) So we started to follow him in and the first promoter shouted that we should have gone in with him. Ahbviouslay we ran back to the first promoter and awkwardly ditched the second guy, causing unnecessary animosity and chaos. Just your average Jessica-Patty exchange.
We made it into the club, got stamped, and promptly left to find coffee. Upon purchasing said coffee, we loitered in Piccadilly and proceeded to intentionally ruin peoples' pictures of these signs on the floor by sticking our feet in them. Repeatedly.
Then we finished our coffees and went back up to the club. It was called Penthouse and was on the top of a building. Pretty sweet view and legit music. Plus it was open until 3am, which is always a plus. We danced for about 5 hours, drinking throughout. We're convinced that they water down their alcohol. There is no other explanation. We felt the way we did when we got there. We also made new friends and, no, did not take any pictures. I'm sure you're not surprised. Also, there was this guy dressed ENTIRELY in white who would not stop trying to dance on us. Yes, on us. I was super offended and wanted to inform the guy that you are not supposed to wear white anywhere near labor day. And by labor day, I mean me.
Then we got out of the club at 3:30 and wandered to the tube station and were "surprised" to discover that it was locked. So we decided we were going to wait until it opened at 5:30. We purchased some chicken concoctions and sat down on the sidewalk to wait it out. Two english guys (Harry-not hairy, and Sam) stopped to keep us company. They were cool. They taught us about respect and pashing. We taught them about good heart. A worthy exchange. Also, they convinced us to look for a night bus. Good heart guys, good heart.
We found the N13 night bus taking us back to Swiss Cottage and even saw it coming shortly thereafter. SWEET, no waiting. Oh, no wait, it's driving past us. Quick Jessie, run to catch up! After banging on the door, the bus driver lets us board. Phew, now we're on our way. Wait, did the prerecorded bus voice just say this bus terminates here? Oh shit, the lights just all turned off. Aaaaand we're stopping. Nice.
We ended up waiting for a while on the street and the same bus restarted itself and took us home. Now we're back at the hostel. We're going to grab breakfast and then head out to do some quick touristy stuff before frolicking to the airport. Roma here we come!!!
So we woke up late this morning. And by this morning I mean yesterday morning. Because it's 5:30 in the morning and I just got home. Wooooooo.
After waking up we went to the Post Office to run an errand. Because we're RESPONSIBLE GIRLS. That was for you Mom. After the Post Office we got majorly rained on. Because it's London and that's how London rolls. We ran into a kitchen supply shop and asked them where we could get afternoon tea. The lady told us to go to Piccadilly. Off we went with nary a qualm.
We found Piccadilly and were struck with the realization that: this is where we should have been the whole time. It was bustling. We found a visitor information center and asked them where to get tea. The lady there helped us set something up, she was super nice. Except for she kept asking us if we wanted scoins. Turns out she meant scones. Don't worry. We corrected her. Also, the visitor information place was right next to a Cinnabon. Which was fortuitous because, who doesn't like a good cinnabon?
Immediately after scarfing a cinnabon, we walked to afternoon tea. Naturally, we walked right past where we were aiming and ended up in Trafalgar Square by accident. Don't worry, we took awkward pictures.
We did an about face and found the Haymarket Hotel where we managed to procure afternoon tea. We spent hours drinking Oolong tea and eating scoins and tiny sandwiches. UNLIMITED scoins and tiny sandwiches. Be jealous.
After tea we went back to the visitor information center and purchased our tickets to: Enron, the musical. At least, I think it was a musical. There was some music involved.
So, Enron. I invested a lot in the show (monetarily, emotionally, grammatically) and so I was already more than setup to be let down. However, in spite of this predisposition the show was actually really good. It spoke to Jessie and me in a very real way. We've been struggling to find meaning in our future jobs and the show was a fascinating commentary on the pointlessness of an existence devoted to the production of intangibles. More fodder for our depressingly existential conversations. Great.
Also, I promised I'd explain the title. Before the show, we stopped in a pub for a brrr and sydrrrr. Don't ask, that's just how we're saying beer and cider. We don't feel the way we did when we got here. So we asked her for a beer and a cider. And she responded "so you want half and half". Because we're stupid Americans, we thought she was planning on mixing the two. So we argued with her back and forth for an unnecessarily long time. Then, a benevolent englishman at the bar gently informed us that she was asking if we wanted two half pints. Of course we did NOT want two half pints. Full pints only for us, thankyouverymuch. The transaction was awkward, embarassing and insulting. I.e. exactly what we intended.
After Enron we wandered to find dinner. On the way, a promoter stopped us and talked up this club. I was down but Jessie was hungry. So we found food. I'm embarassed to say, we ate at McDonald's. I think the last time I had McDonald's for dinner, I was in Rome. Jessie wanted fries and the food in England sucks. Don't judge me.
After McDonald's we wandered around Piccadilly and this other promoter tried to lead us up to the club. But we wanted coffee. He told us to get stamped and then we could leave and come back. (Something about entry being cheaper before 11? Idk.) So we started to follow him in and the first promoter shouted that we should have gone in with him. Ahbviouslay we ran back to the first promoter and awkwardly ditched the second guy, causing unnecessary animosity and chaos. Just your average Jessica-Patty exchange.
We made it into the club, got stamped, and promptly left to find coffee. Upon purchasing said coffee, we loitered in Piccadilly and proceeded to intentionally ruin peoples' pictures of these signs on the floor by sticking our feet in them. Repeatedly.
Then we finished our coffees and went back up to the club. It was called Penthouse and was on the top of a building. Pretty sweet view and legit music. Plus it was open until 3am, which is always a plus. We danced for about 5 hours, drinking throughout. We're convinced that they water down their alcohol. There is no other explanation. We felt the way we did when we got there. We also made new friends and, no, did not take any pictures. I'm sure you're not surprised. Also, there was this guy dressed ENTIRELY in white who would not stop trying to dance on us. Yes, on us. I was super offended and wanted to inform the guy that you are not supposed to wear white anywhere near labor day. And by labor day, I mean me.
Then we got out of the club at 3:30 and wandered to the tube station and were "surprised" to discover that it was locked. So we decided we were going to wait until it opened at 5:30. We purchased some chicken concoctions and sat down on the sidewalk to wait it out. Two english guys (Harry-not hairy, and Sam) stopped to keep us company. They were cool. They taught us about respect and pashing. We taught them about good heart. A worthy exchange. Also, they convinced us to look for a night bus. Good heart guys, good heart.
We found the N13 night bus taking us back to Swiss Cottage and even saw it coming shortly thereafter. SWEET, no waiting. Oh, no wait, it's driving past us. Quick Jessie, run to catch up! After banging on the door, the bus driver lets us board. Phew, now we're on our way. Wait, did the prerecorded bus voice just say this bus terminates here? Oh shit, the lights just all turned off. Aaaaand we're stopping. Nice.
We ended up waiting for a while on the street and the same bus restarted itself and took us home. Now we're back at the hostel. We're going to grab breakfast and then head out to do some quick touristy stuff before frolicking to the airport. Roma here we come!!!
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