Little Toyko

So, consider this. The last two house parties I've been to, both in 2008, have at one point or another involved a (straight) guy dancing or running around in a g-string. The first incident involved an American in leopard print, running down the street and waving at cars, and the second involved a Japanese guy with goggles and semi-break dancing. Despite the differences between the two, I can't help but ask myself -- when did this sort of thing become a trend in my life? These are questions that demand to be asked. There must be answers, but I can't think of any.

So this entry should become quite long, because this weekend fun overfloweth time. First, realize it was a slow and frustrating week at work. These are details I won't bother you with. Friday night, I had the house to myself to relax for the first time in a while. Turned up the tunes, of course, and just enjoyed having some peace. Lauren and I met up at a Covent Garden pub to have some rounds. We walked past the Brazilian bar where Blend polished off the Christmas party, and the line was wrapped-around-the-block huge. I still can't remember the name of the place. Starts with a B. Covent Garden continues to amaze me every time I visit. The market and immediate surrounding area is somewhat unimpressive to me, but there are LOADS of great bars and pubs on every street otherwise. How did I not realize this sooner?

Friday night was a lot of fun, but the general exhaustion of the day still lingered. Then there was Saturday. I woke up "early" at ten, feeling serene and unopposed to the for-once beautiful weather. I threw on my jeans and sweatshirt (no coat, hurrah!!) and walked to the post office with my parcel slip to collect my Aunt Jemima pancake mix. And don't forget the syrup, as well as the Jiffy cornbread mix. Savin' that one for a rainy day. Which should, by the way, be any day now. I stopped into the green off license on the corner to buy orange mango juice, and I felt almost defiant as I returned to my flat. What is it about running local errands in the morning? Maybe it was the sunshine and the perfect shuffle of tracks on my ipod, or maybe it was that it was so quiet out and you didn't feel that you had to look over your shoulder at the one stranger passing by. Good morning, neighbor! Also, there is something about returning home with breakfast. So while I made my pancakes, the house was still quiet and the stellar ipod shuffle continued. Tyler would be pleased to know Mark Knopfler's "What It Is" came on during this. I let it play out, and starting at that moment life felt likeBoston for the rest of the day.

After breakfast, I cleaned up (also helps me feel accomplished) and got ready. I FINALLY managed to find my long-lost aviators (originally purchased to be "Maverick" for Halloween) and I rolled out of the house around 1pm feelin' pretty cool. Such a fantastic morning that I even enjoyed waiting for the bus because I was outside and both invisible and tuned out while tuned in to my own tunes. Now this - this I used to do in Boston all the time.

First store I go into is Urban Outfitters. I know, I know - here, it's as bad as the Gap. Imagine an overpriced Urban garment/item (it's not hard to do) and simply replace the dollar sign with the pound sign. Or, as it were, instead of discounting said item 50% mark it up 200%. Welcome to Urban in the UK. I tried on a few things I liked but walked out with a coat that fit like it was made for me. A coat is an important purchase and, besides, it was the only one on the rack. I would also then purchase a few H&M shirts and cardigan as well as a cashmere sweater and a wrap, from Zara, which I wore that night. Success.

Dinner. Leftovers, I think. Then, back out with Lauren and her friend, Kurt, to see The Kite Runner. I haven't read the book, so don't ask, but I'm sure it's better. Then, we hopped on the tube and head to Finsbury Park (Finsbree Park), where one of the most random nights of life ever would begin. We bought 12 beers (4 Red Stripe, 4 1664 and 4 Stella) for 12 pounds. Bargain. This party was at the flat of several (six, I think?) Japanese guys, plus a few of their girlfriends. Add one well-traveled Australian guy with a unique life philosophy, stir in a thickly accented and musically opinionated guy from Liverpool and sprinkle with five Americans. Drown mixture in alcohol (beer, brandy, calimocho and tequila, to be specific) and set fire to cultural differences. Before you know it, a very tall six-foot-something Jack was spinning in circles with one of the Japanese guys on his back. We were all wearing fedoras, dancing to rock and electronic. At one point, one of our gracious (and wasted) hosts made us all sit down around the coffee table. He starts chanting the ABCs (no lie) as he points around our circle of chairs. After mixing up a few consonants in the middle, he shouts a letter louder, pointing at me. (I think he needed to get to 'U' but it all happened so fast, I'm pretty sure he just ended the alphabet short.) He pours a shot of brandy and holds it in front of me. "No, really, I'm fine. (Point to the beer)." No arguing. At least when I took the shot, the whole group cheered. After that, we were free to stand up and socialize again.

It was at this point I turned to Lauren and asked her a question that would be repeated several times throughout the night - "How on EARTH did I end up HERE?" This wasn't meant in the, 'where's my left shoe, and why am I sleeping in the bathtub?' type of way. Rather, it was disbelief at the path that led me from (A) principal’s honor rolls and dance studios in Overland Park, Kansas to (B) karaoke and Wally’s Jazz Café in Boston to (C) a flat of Japanese guys in North London, which happens to be the city I, um, live in?! In this moment at the party, I stepped out of my own experience and looked around. Here I was, sitting in this random flat in Finsbury Park with strangers I've just met and friends I've known only briefly. Random shit going down all around me, and I'm having discussions about life-changing experiences and culture with a bunch of internationals. Yet somehow, I completely belonged in this situation, and, without question, I was having the time of my life. This is the best I'll ever articulate that evening because you just had to be there to experience it. Simon, the Australian guy, was right in calling their flat Little Toyko because we were transported to another place that evening.

Later, around 3:00 or 3:30am, we saw people dressed as PAC MAN characters walking down the street while we continued to dance on the balcony. We cheered at them, and they did a little victory stroll down the block.

Kurt also lives in Old St, and Lauren was staying with me, so the three of us head out. Lauren and I had drunken quesadillas (delicioso!) and then, of course, pancakes for breakfast. I FINALLY got to eat at Wagamama when we went to Angel for lunch, and we realized we'd truly had a full Japanese culture experience. From there, we went to Camden Market, where we settled into one of the hookah bars for a few hours and Kurt joined up again. I love hookah. We relaxed for two or three hours (who knows?!), talked more and reminisced the events of just hours before.

At 7:30, I had tickets to the Sadlers Wells Sampled show, which was a huge disappointment. More on it later, because I'm spent. Speaking of disappointment, though, the tube is worthless on weekends. Instead of going from Camden straight to Angel (3 stops, no changes), we sat unmoving in the tunnel for 10 minutes, ended up on the wrong side of the split, and then it didn't stop at Euston (arguably the MAIN station on the line). I ended up getting out at Warren Street (opposite direction) and taking a cab to the theater. Sprinted the six half flights up to the second circle to find out I'd booked the center of the row because, after working in a box office for almost two years, I'm a seat snob. "Excuse me, sorry, thank you, sorry, cheers, excuse me, sorry." Seat 18 of 35. Dead center. Great seat, shitty show. Un-funny Emcee that dragged the show into a three-hour affair.

End weekend scene.

Today I went to work. I argued with my client. I won because I was right, and I lost because they didn't accept our insistent recommendations in the end. I can tell you there does come a point when you just don't care to argue anymore.

I guess that's all. Definitely a weekend to remember and a feeling to memorize. Here, for your enjoyment/aide, the Cliffs Notes version of this entry: g-string/life questions, pub, breakfast and good weather, shopping, cinema, house party/cultural epiphany, veg, wagamama, hookah and dance. With the exception of pancakes, not one repeated action. And who wouldn't want to have repeat Aunt Jemima?