British Museum

I'm dating this for yesterday because I should have posted this then instead of now. Oh well. Anyhow, we went to the British Museum yesterday. It was a really fucked up trip on the tube because of this. So, there's really no air conditioning down there, and it's a nice and constant about 85 degrees with 99.99% humidity. And it's rush hour, so we're packed like... well, I would say sardines, but we were all coated with sweat instead of whatever sardines are covered with. Oil, I guess. Anyhow, we all bail off the train a couple of exits early and catch a different one. We end up losing someone in our group (poor thing), but we trudge onward. We take our 10-minute sidewalk-clogging march in rain and wind, and then we're there. The ediface is really imposing and austere, but pretty neat. The gravel front area and steps are clogged with fellow tourists waiting to have their bags inspected. After a cursory glance, we were in, and headed straight for the Rosetta Stone. First off, I thought that it would be round for some reason. It's not. I thought the writing would be really big. It's not (I'd say it's about a 20-point font, at most.) Thirdly, I had the urge to trip a woman and call her a stupid American. She shoved in front of me twice (okay, could be a simple mistake), and then told her husband just to "shove your way to the front. It's the only way." Dumb bitch.

We then saw the Elgin Marbles, which contrary to my first thought, are not round and colorful. They are lovely carvings, ripped from their home in some far-away land (Greece, I think) and plopped into the museum. They've asked for them back, and I think the English government has just thumbed their nose at them. Kind of like the issue with the Getty, I think.

After that, everyone wanted to go to get a drink and sit down, and I couldn't blame them after the horrific tube ride. This was at something like 5ish, and we had to be back to Regent's Park for a play at 8pm. Everyone wanted to run home to get some warmer clothes (and I eventually agreed with them), so we all decided to go back to the flat. I was a bit disappointed, but I could definitely see the rationale of this decision.

So, here is where I get a bit cocky: I am a very good navigator. I know where I'm going, I know how to get there, I know how to read a map, and I know when I should ask for directions. I'm very rarely wrong when looking for things. So, when the group took a random-ass route to leave the museum, I told them I would just meet them out front. I waited 5 minutes, and I figured I would just go ahead home without them. So I go to the tube station we agreed upon (different than the one we came in on so as not to be stuck in all of the nonsense with the Picadilly Line), and I end up stuck behind a bunch of tourists hogging the sidewalk. I'm not really annoyed because I'm really not in a hurry. I double-checked with someone else stuck behind the group to make sure that I'm going the right way to the tube station, and it starts to rain. A homeless, and probably not quite sane person, runs up to a couple of the tourist girls who are sharing an umbrella and huddles under it with them saying, "Thanks, ladies" or something like that. One of the guys from the group runs him off, and crazy homeless guy comes out with his best insult: "Fucking American."

Nice. I haven't had to pull the "I'm Canadian" ruse yet, but I'm keeping it in reserve.

Long story short (well, shorter), I made it back to the flat with a minimum of fuss. Took me about 20 to 30 minutes total. The rest of the group: 45 minutes behind me. The moral of the story: Jake knows where she's going, and you'd do better to follow her if you want to get home quickly. Oh, and we didn't make it to the play in Regent's Park. Too cold and rainy. Oh well.