Showing posts with label Picadilly Circus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Picadilly Circus. Show all posts

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Last Dance, Last Entry


Finally, we come to my very last full day in London, 4 June 2012. I can’t say anything truly eventful happened throughout the course of the day (though the evening was a different story—more on that momentarily). It was still part of the four-day Diamond Jubilee Weekend, though not much was happening—the big flotilla had been the day before, and the true celebration, including the huge concert, would happen on the 5th. Mostly, people were quiet and involved in setting-up or staking their seats for the next day’s events.

As for me, I just wandered around all my favorite haunts, snapping photos of places that I had spent the last six months loving and building memories in.

I began my meandering walk at the Piccadilly Circus stop, and moved my way through China Town, which, neighboring the local gayborhood, I had spent a fair amount of time in. One of the places I knew I’d have to get a photo of was Little Wu’s, where I had shared more than one meal with friends.


Little Wu's

Passing through China Town, I made my way into Soho, where I captured images of places I had mentioned but not visually archived yet, including Lupo’s, the salon where Youssef, the hot Palestinian guy used to cut my hair, and the Moroccan restaurant I enjoyed with TS and BH. I also ordered one last cup of coffee from LJ’s, and took my time pursuing thorough the typical coffee shop stack of magazines (<-- foreshadowing).

Alas, I was too chicken to take a photo of Youssef.

Following that, I made one more stop at the awesome comic shop Forbidden Planet, where I finally worked up the nerve to take photos of their awe-inspiring toy display before making my way to Covent Garden and the museum area near Trafalgar Square. And, as I learned upon arriving at Trafalgar Square, I wasn’t the only American in the neighborhood concerned with the festivities…
The entryway...
Robin Roberts and the blonde woman from Good Morning, America!

Finally, I began the long walk the Mall toward Buckingham Palace. As noted earlier, people were already staking out their seating claims for the next day. They were ready with food, drink, chairs, and tents. Final touches were being put on the concert stage, which now encircled the memorial to Queen Victoria, and cameras were being set up along the top of the palace. In all, there was a great feeling of excitement in the air.

Concert Stage
Since it was so close, I also hopped over to St James’ Palace, so I could snag one last photo with the Queen Alexandra state I love so much, before doubling back for more photos along the Mall.


And, of course, I took some photos of birds and the surrounding area from my favorite bridge in St James’ park, a fitting end to my last full touristy day in London…but I’m not done yet! As I mentioned, there was still the night ahead!
 

 
While at LJ’s earlier in the day, I had stumbled upon an advertisement for a special Diamond Jubilee-themed party kicking off later that night at Heaven. Now, as I’ve made abundantly clear throughout this blog, I love(d) Heaven!!!! In fact, it was my favorite club in London! But, I knew there was no way I was going to that—after all, my flight to come back to the U.S. was early the next morning, and the last thing I wanted to do was fly with a hangover…

But then I saw the name of the performer playing there:


Lonnie Gordon.

See the red wax bubble in the middle-right.


I am a huge fan of Lonnie Gordon, and have been for years! I first got hooked on her music owing to the song “Bad Mood,” and I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since. Unfortunately, she’s never really been as big in the U.S. as she was/is in the U.K. and elsewhere abroad. She also had a pretty scary cancer scare a few years ago. So, the long and short of it is this: I had long-ago reconciled myself to the fact that I would never be able to see her perform live.

And now this.

I spent the afternoon vacillating, unsure if I should say “to hell with it” and go to Heaven that night, or if I should do the responsible thing and stay in. Ultimately, with the encouragement of Nic, KG and MM, I decided to go. And I’m so incredibly grateful that I did!


I got there super-early, in the hope that she’d perform early and I could leave. Alas, that part of my plan did not come to fruition. It seemed to be no different from any other night at Heaven, with the sole exception of a drag queen coming out dressed as Queen Elizabeth and singing “God Save the Queen,” and other than the posters there was no indication of when or if Lonnie Gordon would actually go on tonight.

But I kept waiting… And drinking. And drinking. And drinking. And then, around 1:30 AM, just as I was about to call it quits, she appeared:

She was wearing a tight fitting, long-sleeved, short, sequined black dress, and she worked the stage, stomping around in fierce black stilettos.

It was magical, even though she didn’t perform for long, and I was enraptured.


She started with a powerful rendition of “Last Dance” in honor of the recently passed Donna Summer—a fitting choice (for me), because it was indeed my last bout of dancing in London, and also because it’s my favorite Donna Summer song. Next, she launched into a Gordonesque rendition of Earth Wind and Fire’s “Boogie Wonderland,” followed by a third song that I didn’t know. And that was all, but it was more than enough.


You can see most of it in the video below (though it sadly cuts off in the middle of the third song). You can also catch a glimpse of me in the video below if you look closely enough—I'm standing right next to the person at the right-hand foot of the stage shooting video on their mobile at around the 1:29 mark.




But the best parts about her performance were the following:

First, during one of the moments when she leaned over the railing (around 8:30 in the video), looking at the audience, I seized the opportunity to yell for her attention, to which she responded by looking directly at me with her sparkling hazel eyes and mile-long lashes, and said “Hey, baby.” Sure, you can't hear it in the video—but I'm telling you, that's exactly what happened.

Shortly after that, I blew her a kiss—I was all queer-drunken-fan-boy by this point. I was sure she saw it, though she didn’t respond (for obvious reasons, i.e., she was in the middle of a song and also she doesn’t know me!)—but I knew I had done it and she had seen it, and that was enough for me. But then, after walking off stage at the end of her set, she came running back for her encore cheer, ran up to the edge of the stage, leaned over to where I was standing at the front of the pack, and blew a kiss back at me! Sadly, this is not in the video either (it cuts off before the end of her third song), but, again, I know that it happened!

Can.
Dance.)



I could not have asked for a more perfect end to not only the night, but my experience in London as a whole.

And so it is on this note that I bring this travel-blog to a close. Though intended primarily as a tool to help me remember this experience, I hope that, if anyone else has read it, they’ve enjoyed what they’ve found, and perhaps been inspired to do some traveling themselves. I also wish to take a second—without blathering on or saying too much else—to just say “Thank You” to all of the people who made this trip possible, and made it so special. You all know who you are!

Cheers.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Some Beautiful and Not-So Beautiful Things...


On 29 May 2012, with my time abroad quickly drawing to a close, I decided to spend some time just wandering around central London—plus, I needed to find some sort of crown to wear to a Diamond Jubilee-themed tea party I had been invited to. Because I saw so much, but nothing really new (for the most part), what follows is basically just random snippets of interest.

Let’s start, as I did that day, with an early morning visit to Buckingham Palace. I had been alerted by EN to the fact that construction had begun on the decorations for the Diamond Jubilee concert. Even so, I was not quite prepared for the radical transformation that had taken place. 

Around the large Victoria Memorial, work had begun on a staging area, from whence performers such as Sir Tom Jones would eventually perform. Similarly, all around the circle, tiered stands had also been erected for those lucky few who had been able to secure tickets to the event. (I tried, but being a non-British citizen I was not able.)


Stage and Bleachers


From the palace, I made my way down the Mall and across St James’s Park—as I have done so often during my stay—and then over to Westminster Abbey by way of Horse Guards Road. I had hoped to find some sort of suitable crown in the gift shop there but, alas, no luck. 

Leaving Westminster, I walked by the Horse Guards Parade and on over to Trafalgar Square (with a brief stop-over at Heaven which, although not open, I wanted a photo of nonetheless). 




Continuing my walk, I swung by the National Portrait Gallery—I had wanted to check out their new exhibit on The Queen, which includes a holographic version of the picture seen below, but didn’t have time—and Leicester Square (where I got a picture taken with the blue M&M), before moving over to Piccadilly Circus and then Soho.


One of my favorite images of HM The Queen!

Do you suppose he's related to Aki T. Fish?


Aside from the usual interest in the Soho area, I specifically wanted to swing by Soho Square so I could finally take a photo of the bench dedicated to singer Kristy McColl. After being killed in a freak boating accident, McColl was memorialized in Soho Square owing to a song she wrote about the area. However, I’m familiar with her through the songs ‘Fairytale of New York’ and the awesomesauceyness that is ‘In These Shoes?’






From Soho Square I trekked onward to the ritzy Mayfair area, where I finally used the  Easter money Mom sent me to buy chocolate form Charbonnel et Walker, official chocolatiers to The Queen. It was delicious!!!

We Approve of Charbonnel et Walker Chocolate!

While there, it hit me: I would get my crown from the gift shop at Buckingham Palace! So, I circled back around—passing St James’s Palace en route—and visited the shop within The Queen’s Gallery. Sure enough, there was the perfect (toy) crown! Mission accomplished!

By now, it was getting lateish, and I had plans for that evening, so I headed home to drop off my stuff and shower, before turning around and heading back out. You see, my friend LD had agreed to cut my hair and add some red low-lights. The only problem: he lives all the way on the east end of London.

But, since I had to go out that way anyway, I decided to finally take a side-excursion to a place even further to the east that I hadn’t made it yet: Thamesmead, the filming location for ‘Beautiful Thing’

It took a bit of time, but I finally found the exact building and area where it was set. Unfortunately, I wasn’t comfortable staying too long—it was a highly sketchy and run-down area, and I was actually a bit afraid (something I hadn’t experienced at any other time or place whilst in London). This meant I wasn’t able to re-enact my favorite moment from the film, when Jaime and Ste slow-dance in the courtyard. Ah, well, at least I was there. 

The real thing...

The best still I could grab--with the amazing Linda Henry!









And I even took the 180 bus to get there, which was kind of a big deal only because of its connection to the film (i.e., Jaime and Ste take the 180 when they go to their first gay pub, the Gloucester).

After snagging those images, I set off for LD’s, where he proceeded to give my hair one final trim before the return home.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

‘You'll Have a Gay Ol’ Time...’


It’s taking me a bit longer to blog about my Paris experience than I thought it would and, in the meantime, I don’t want to miss out on referencing things that are happening in the here and now. To that end, I’m going to set aside Paris for just a moment, and tell you about the start of my weekend…

But first, a bit of set-up: my sleeping habits are totally out of whack, and have been for the duration of my time in London (even before I moved in to Club Lithuanian Frat Guys—who, by the way, I’m more convinced than ever might actually work for the bratva because none of them ever seem go to work of any kind!). Most nights, I am unable to fall asleep before about 2:00 AM.

What’s worse, is that for the last two weeks in a row, I have not been able to fall asleep on Wednesday nights at all! The first time this happened, I assumed it was because of the pounding music coming from Olik’s room, and that I was wound-up following a midnight confrontation with him about it. (I hate conflict, you see, and it makes me feel incredible anxious before/during /after.) But then, again this week, this whole lack-of-sleep on Wednesday night happened, and I’m not sure why.

_____

(Mostly) Unrelated Segue

I’m sorry, I need to interrupt the flow of this entry for a moment. I just went downstairs to check on my laundry while in the midst of composing this entry, and ran into Olik, who is completely pissed (in the British, drunken sense).

He cornered me in the hallway, put his arm around me—which, by the way, is the size of a small tree trunk—and asked if I was bothered by the music he’s blaring at this moment. Not wanting to get into it with him again, I said that it was fine because I wasn’t doing homework, but that if I started later I might ask him to turn it down. 

At that point he nodded his head and smiled and said, ‘You’re a good person—I like you. You’re like family now.’ 

Good Lord, does this mean that I’m now part of the bratva, too? I swear, if anyone tries to kiss me on the cheek while I’m staying here, I will be getting right-the-fuck-out!

End Segue
_____

Back to the Wednesday sleeplessness issue, the reason this is problematic is that my school week begins early on Thursday morning, meaning that said-lack-of-sleep makes me feel like I’m in a fog for the next two days’ worth of classes (because, as most people know, the second day is almost worst than the first). Then, by the time Friday afternoon rolls around—and I’m finished with my classes for the week—I’m exhausted, jumpy, and feeling overall weird.

So, now that you have this understanding of my mental-, emotional-, and physical-states in mind, we can proceed to Friday (24 February)…

When I got home on Friday afternoon (circa 2:00 PM), my upstairs flatmates were already going full-force with their music and drinking. Mind you, all I wanted to do was sleep for a bit. But, that wasn’t going to happen—even after asking them to turn it down, they didn’t. This just added to my agitation. 

In short, my only option was to get out of the flat before I put my fists through a wall. That’s when I ultimately decided to accept my friend TvH’s offer to go out with him and his friends to Soho that night.

A facefull of Purple Steel before goin' out...
Fast-forward to 10:30 PM, and I was making my way from the Tottenham Court Road tube stop toward The Edge. Now, although The Edge consists of multiple stories, we never left the ground floor. This is mostly for three reasons: 

(1) TvH, L. (his boyfriend), and I were waiting for the rest of the group to show up;
(2) the bar—complete with hot, shirtless bartenders—was within easy reach; and,
(3) there were hot go-go boys dancing on the stage (which is tucked back behind the disco ball seen in the upper-right of the photo below).


The Edge, ground floor. (NB: This is not my photo!)


Owing to some stereotypical gay drama, the last two members of our group didn’t arrive until around 1:30 AM. But that was okay, because the music was good (I was shocked by how much ‘new’ music I actually recognized), and the remix the DJ played of Adele’sRolling in the Deep’ was amazaballs!

Eventually, four hours after arriving, the group decided that it was time to check out someplace else. So, en masse, we made our way into the gaybourhood streets. After a stumbling stroll, we finally arrived at G-A-Y Late.

Now, unfortunately, after standing in line for about 15 minutes, the bouncer allowed four of us to enter but arbitrarily blocked the fifth, saying he was too drunk. Mind you, we were all at the same level of sobriety—in fairness, we should all have been blocked.

Well, not to be thwarted, we once again staggered into the streets (pausing briefly at one of those port-a-urinals—using that was a bizarre experience to be sure, but better than being caught on CCTV doing something you shouldn’t, I guess!)

NB: This is not my photo, nor is it the one I used. Just for the record.

Next stop: Ku Bar. My recollection of Ku Bar basically consists of another hot, shirtless bartender with pecs like boulders and nipples like diamonds, a bit of dancing—which, I’m sure to the non-drunkards in the room looked something along the lines of the Elaine Benes dance—and a marine layer of that artificial club-fog that smells like a cross between artificial sweetener, armpits, and ball-sweat. But, there must have been a bit more to it than just those three things, because I also have a distinct recollection of feeling like it was reminiscent of my once-favorite stomping ground, Velvet Nation.

Finally, at around 3:30 AM, it was time to head home…

Except, I was a bit turned around, as were TvH and L. As an acquaintance of mine of Facebook just wrote about his similar experience this weekend, ‘after 3 hours of traveling back and forth like a homecoming hooker’s walk of shame, we said fuck it and tried to hail a cab. Tried. None of those bitches would pick us up.’ That pretty much sums up our attempt at leaving.
 
Eventually, after walking in circles—Piccadilly Circus, to be exact—for a bit, we found a bus that would take us to Canning Town station, from whence we could all catch trains to our respective flats. (Of course, this decision also necessitated that we wait until 5:30 AM for the trains to start running again…with all of us dressed for going out, and not necessarily dressed for warmth.)

But, I made it home safely (albeit not until after sunrise), and without being part of a mugging scenario this time. YAY!

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

8 Mile (Part II): The Afternoon

Following the ceremony, EN and I made our way down the Mall, passed the Horse Guards Parade, and on to Big Ben and the Palace of Westminster. (EN had yet to capture any photos of either of these places, hence the stop-over—rumor has it, I may have snagged another photo or two myself!)

Clark Kent says: "Boy, the way you blowin' up my phone won't make me leave no faster, put my cape on faster, leave my gays no faster!"

 From there, EN and I crossed the Westminster Bridge, and proceeded to head northeast along the Thames, passing such things as the Millennium Eye and the National Theatre. It was a fun little walk (albeit a touch cold). We shared a cup of roasted peanuts from a street-vendor (couldn't help it--they smelled so good!), and visited an open-air book market stationed under the Waterloo Bridge, before making our way back across the bridge and on to Covent Gardens.

Covent Gardens is a charming little neighborhood! One website described it as follows:

"Covent Garden, London is famous for its shops, street performers, bars, restaurants, theatres and the Royal Opera House. Covent Garden is an Italian-style piazza packed with restaurants, bars and fashionable boutiques. Surrounded by Theatreland, in the heart of London's West End, the area is recognised as the capital's premier entertainment and leisure destination." ~  Covent Garden Life

Now, I wish I could say that we hung around to enjoy the shopping and take in some street-performances or theatre but, alas, my growling stomach protested too loudly. So, we tried to find a reasonably-priced, not-too-busy pub in which to get our chow on. What we instead found was a place on New Row. This place was about the size of mine and Nic’s studio apartment, had ‘Italian’ décor, paintings of Paris on their menu, and items on said-menu that were all prefixed with ‘Texas-.’ It wasn't quite the atmosphere we were looking for, but we settled in out of necessity. (For the record, I had a ‘Texas-Egg Burger’ and an unnamed German lager because they didn’t serve Guinness.)

 It…sufficed.

From Covent Garden we moved into Soho, which is somewhat like the Boystown equivalent in London. It was the middle of the day, though, so there wasn’t much to see or do. But I can say I was there! (And I was there again on Monday—hence yesterday’s hangover and the story for later.)

Brief stopovers in Piccadilly Circus—in certain respects the Time Square of London—and along Regent Street were next. Not too much to say about that bit, though EN and I did work on our ‘Texas oilmen’ personae as a means of gaining access to some of the exclusive, overly-priced stores on Regent Street (e.g., one shop wanted £12,000 for a silver spoon). I mean, seriously, these were the kinds of shops where you couldn’t enter unless someone buzzed you in. Something tells me that no matter how well-perfected our ‘Hello, m’am, we’re wealthy oil men from Texas’ spiels were, they still wouldn’t have allowed EN and I entrance…


Mind the...Gap?

The shops of Regent Street

Most of this time was spent in-transit, walking around. Following our visit to the shops on Regent Street, dusk was nearly upon us...

TO BE CONTINUED...