DAY 6: Hostile in Hostel

Went to sleep around midnight last night only to be awoken by my new Brazilian roomies at 2 a.m. I got them back by packing and showering at 5 a.m. to get to the airport. Yes, I am an unruley bitch.

When I said I was only taking a backpack, I never really put that into the realization that this "backpack" was like carrying an obese midget on my back. Not to mention my "laptop bag" that has my camera, headphones, books, etc. etc. that I wear around the front like I'm about to give birth any moment. I will look like a body builder by June. Embarked on a fast pace waddle to the bus stop, that I just missed. Thank goodness for the taxi that was poaching for idiots such as myself... got checked in and sat in a pub with my computer, and the bar was full with people drinking Guiness! I shit you not, at 7 a.m. people were tying one on. Breakfast of champions I s'pose. Oh, and FYI, Nasty Nancy hastily informed me they don't sell chewing gum in the Dublin airport.

Flying by the seat of your pants is a blast, until you have to A. figure out where you are going to sleep that night, and B. carry a midget and a baby kangaroo around on the Tube. This is where my luck-o-te-Irish bitch-slapped me in the face. The Tube wasn't going east from the airport... awesome. So me, myself and my uncanny sense of direction had to divert every which way to get to Central London, and SOMEHOW I managed. Maybe I am learning something. Maybe.

I checked into another shatty hostel and locked my bags up, which btw costs 2 pounds EVERYTIME you want to open the tiny door... needless to say I'll be wearing the same clothes tomorrow. And won't be showering because the shower is (on a scale of mild, medium or hot) HOT in a spicy way. I'd rather give myself a sponge bath out of the sink. Oh but there's no hot water! It's mild in a freezing way. I can't wait to take a long enough shower that enables me to shave! I'll need a good hour... you boys have it soooo easy. My roomies were a mother and daughter from Denmark- better than Bango Drums from Brazil.

I'm staying right on the edge of SOHO so I got lost (on purpose) there and found a tiny Thai place. And when I say tiny, I felt like I was in a dollhouse. I looked like a praying mantis sitting on a toad stool holding chop sticks. Delicious Tom Yum soup and Red Curry sufficed for my only meal of the day. I made my way to Leicester Square and further on to Trafalgar Square. I was here in 2003, so I've begun to "refamiliarize" myself. I was waiting for Celine Dion to saunter up behind me singing "It's all comin' back, it's all comin' back to me nowww..." but I think she's in Vegas.

A writer I met this summer told me to go to the SOHO Hotel for a cocktail, so after hours of walking around, my dogs were barking and I decided it was time for a drink. I asked a policeman who was quite a cheery old chap how to get there after searching for a good half-hour, and he didn't even know... but he did tell me where the Red Light District was (we were standing on the corner of it) and NOT to go any further in. (But it would make for such a great story!) Ha, I didn't chance it. I finally stumbled upon the hotel, tucked back behind a gay bar called "Low Profile." I ordered a dirty martini in "ReFuel"  and because I've become a complete cocktail snob, I had to send it back. Who puts equal parts of dry vermouth and vodka- with NO olive brine??? The second one wasn't much better- their olives tasted like sea scallops.

Back at the hostile around 7:30 p.m., I sat on my bed to read a bit and passed out with my headphones blaring. The visions of Frank Sinatra and I dancing in my head were shattered as the Danes tromped in. Slept like shit, but caught up a bit.

A good buddy from high school (Lewis Howes) is in London and is putting on a sports networking clinic Tuesday night! Will be good to see an old friend and a familiar face. Hopefully I can find the place.

Best poster I saw today: "I've got 2,986 friends on facebook and I'm not getting shagged."

Cheerio!