Sunday, October 05, 2008

City nights

I checked the time 4 times. The first 3 worked perfectly. 00:00, 01:01 and 02:02 were what I saw. At 02:02 we decided we'd down our last drinks and start heading home. My 4th check happened to be around 03:10. But I was then beyond caring about the perfect quadruple. I was happy I did not fall asleep in the night bus, maybe among the few night bus rides I never fell asleep. And guess, thanks to what? Thanks to Ronald fucking McDonald...

Liverpool Street (Station) will always remain as one of my most significant personal landmarks of London. It happens to be at the edge of the City of London, and the London boroughs of Tower Hamlets, Hackney and even Islington. It is where the financial heart of the world pounced, it is where the gentrifying urban regeneration spread from. It is near where Jack the Ripper cut off lungs and intestines, it is where black death once spread faster than foreign direct investment. If you are ever to worship the 'capital(ism)' just drop by the Liverpool Street Station, think about its past and present, take a 360 degree twist, see the Gherkin, the Tower 42, Broadgate Tower, Barbican Estate, remind yourself about the Bank and St. Paul's and dissolve into the London undergrounds under the clouded mystery of what this troubled city beholds.

Now it is this bloody Ronald McDonald that steals the scene from the rest of the mediocre 'high-velocity-food' scenery. I only missed 3 flights in my life. 2 were from Berlin Schonefeld, the other one a couple of weeks ago from London Stansted. Because the Stansted Express from Liverpool Street Station got delayed... I can't even take the piss out of this 'holy' place. This is where me and S. and F. and their St. Martin's friends oriented ourselves to find our night buses...

When you happen to end the night around East End, you usually take your night bus back home from Liverpool Street Station. If you hadn't already eaten a kebap around somewhere in Shoreditch, you might as well join the crowds at the 24 h McDonald's at the Liverpool Street Station whilst waiting for your bus. It is the Double Cheeseburger (memories from early teenage years) and the Vanilla Milkshake (memories from Summer 2007 Athens) that saved grace and kept me awake in the 1 hour night bus ride to Streatham Hill. Road to global obesity is paved with cheddar cheese and finely chopped off cow meat. Join the Delicatessen hype.

J. shared with me some of her personal thoughts of some people that mattered in her life. I have to admit I was happy to establish this faith. I did not neither find it awkward to share my bits of my sincerity. A few pints trundled down the throats with bonheur and bona fides. As we moved out of the last pub London reminded me of its magisterial character. No matter what you do in this city, you'll get wet. If it ain't for some clumsy guy spilling bear all over you, London's gonna shower with you drizzles whilst blowing cool wind into your guts. If you don't like it, jump across from the island. If you're fine with it, then dwell with it. Whatever you choose to do, just try and stay fit. Or else, someone's gonna beat the crap out of you around here...

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