Big Ben, parliament

As we started out the day yesterday Chris seems to take us through an ambulatory tour around London. As seems to be the case it is blisteringly sunny one second and then next it is overcast and muffled grey. Vivian reminds us that, due to the alterations on the schedule, this morning we shall be sight seeing around London, stopping across the Thames to get a picture of Big Ben and Parliament before stopping for an all inclusive tour of Westminster. She says that then we will be  seeing the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham palace before lunch and then on to visit the US Embassy in London. We drive past Harrods where Vivian notes we shall be shopping in a day or so. Vivian then asks if we had any distance runners who got up early this morning to run. I raise my hand along with Dan and several members of his group. A look of pride seems to emanate from her every pore.  Vivian quickly comments that she doesn’t know who all happened to glance at the sports in the paper or watch the daily news but we just happened to have had quite an exciting marathon yesterday didn’t we?  She says that today is somewhat of a National Holiday since a British long distance runner named Eammon Martin won the London Marathon yesterday.

“And what a race it was. Critics are stating that it was the most exciting finish ever.”

Vivian states that the two lead runners were neck and neck for the last ten miles. It was only in the last two-hundred meters, almost at Big Ben exactly that Eammon Martin sprinted and took the lead and refused to look back.

Vivian’s face looks like she is watching fireworks over the American flag.

She stated that Britons are proud of their athletes and their racing heritage.

“It was quite exciting. He finished in a total time of 2 hours 10 minutes and fifty seconds. Quite impressive actually.”

I reach into my side pocket and grab a pen. I then reach into my bag for the journal I brought. Being a runner I know how to calculate pace and distance.  Eammon Martin  ran 26.2 miles avg 4:59 per mile.

I am struggling to break the elusive 5 minute barrier in track in one mile. It is really the only thing I want to accomplish to punctuate my freshman year, breaking five minutes in the mile.

Eammon Martin ran 26 miles non stop avg a speed faster than I can run one.

I look at Bryan Fanning from Alaska who states that he can run a sub-five minute mile with ease.

Vivian is stating that it quite exciting, really.

Quite exciting indeed.

We cross Lambeth Bridge.  Vivian is pointing at the towers of Parliament stating that, as you can tell, Victoria tower has been having a bit of what you Americans like to call a faceleft. She states that the best unbidden view of the tower is across the Thames and the bus will pause for fifteen minutes so you can get out and feel free to snap pictures if you like.

I had waited the entire trip to see the gilt screeches sprinting to the top of the arrowheaded odalisque with a  slightly mustached chronometer visage that is London's most conspicuous landmark. I think about the spread out in the Journal Star full page layout, both Nat and myself imprisoned in a frame. When people hear the syllables of London the clock tower inevitably if the first thing that comes to mind.

I am lost. This is my trophy. This is what I have worked for over the past three years.

From behind me Jim is starting to giggle.

"Hey Harry. Look at it. It looks like a cock!"

I ignore him. Frank McNulty up front swivels his head as if it were a chair. Vivian keeps apologizing for the condition of the tower pleasantly preaching that if one would like to see Victoria tower unobstructed without the scaffolding you will just have to come back.

We would love to have you.

It has been an off-day for the Big Ten with the exception of Josh who keeps badgering everyone that we really need to get together and brain storm for the skit when we get back to the hotel. Vivian is giving us a little bit of history about the House of Parliaments stating that it is where the House of Lords and the House of commons meet.

A common picture seems to be looking down at ones watch with Big Ben behind as if verifying the time. Charles swipes his head as Jim lies down supine on the railing overlooking the Thames, snapping his picture so that it looks like he is sprouting an erection, telling him comeon now, lets not be distasteful. My thirty-second fling of playing Open Jewels and being accepted by the Big Ten is over. I am back to loathing their antics. I am back to wishing I was on any other bus than the one I currently find myself stowed upon. It’s like the napkin with Rita’s digits released something inside teh lid of my chest. I wonder how it would have transpired if I would have called her. If I wouldn’t have lost the napkin. I wonder if we would have somehow agreed to go the dance on the river we are currently standing over tonight as a somewhat couple. For reasons as of yet inexplicable my allegiance is towards Harmony. Perhaps I am trying to joust for her affection due to her elusive nature. Perhaps it was because she was the first creature I feel like I connected with on the trip. Perhaps part of me is readily countenancing the what Justin said during our Aqua Net tiff yesterday afternoon, about sacrificing my rapport with Renae so I could go on this trip and meet, what I had already christened, in my own mind, was the preordained girl of my dreams.

I probably owe Josh an apology for stating that his girlfriend looks like she just went down on a cherry tomato.

From behind I can hear Vivian inquire does anyone care to speculate just how old the Houses of Parliament are? She is talking about British election being quite a different prow-cess from the electoral counterpart across the pond we are quite accustomed to.  She is talking about John Major and noting that it will be sod all when a Laborer is elected Prime Minister once again. There is a discussion between the House of Commons and the House of Lords which no one seems, to glean. Vivian is talking about etiquette/manners in the House of Commons and how there is no applauding and hands are to be kept out of pocket at all time. She talks about British ridicule and political banter. She talks about a lady in a wig hammering a gavel stating the word ‘order’ when things become ruckus, which is often. She states that smoking is verboten as is drinking, although you will note the onslaught of Pubs within walking distance of the entrance. Vivian talks about some kind of ‘buzzer’ that goes off inside local public houses letting the Keep know session is ready to reconvene. Again none of the BIG TEN is paying attention. Jim has gone to a whole new level trying to spread his legs and bend down at an angle so it appears that the clock tower is inching up the British vernacular of his bum. Sir Charles again reminds Jim just to calm down. He states that if the Big Ten arrive at the American embassy acting like red-coated hooligans they will be detained for treason. Vivian is mentioning Guy Fawkes which the altar-boy who prods his head into every one of my photos mistakes for Hudson Hawk, rhetorically asking why Hudson Hawk would endeavor to blow up the parliament and have a holiday to himself when I look at Jim and, much in the same way as I bumped into Nat last night.

He is dry humping the air.

I snap.

“Damnit Jim just stop it. I’m trying to enjoy my trip to London and you keep marring the experience every single second it’s about your cock. It’s like you have some subliminal Freudian fetish or something. Geezus Jim Just chill it brother. I’m in London. I’m trying to enjoy the trip. I know you won the trip by having the good  people of boulder Colorado pick your name at random from an upside down bowler hat put it took me three years of failure and I really want to enjoy my time here. I don’t want to be relentlessly subjected to your uncouth mannerisms for the duration of the trip!”

I say the word Jesus much in the manner in which Nat said it last night at the George.

 I say the word Jesus as if I am supplicating for a savior.

Trevor is looking at me.  Several members of Daisy’s group who already have some sort of vendetta against me is giggling. From behind I see Frank McNulty, the CEO Parade looking at me as if I have mental problems. Put me on the discipline bus.

I don’t care.

I stammer back on the bus with my camera limp around my neck.  Sir Charles is pulling Jim aside. Again, as I felt yesterday afternoon at the tower of London, I don’t want to be here. Rather I want to be here just knot always surrounded by the locker-room humor of the Big Ten.

I am discerning that it is all about Harmony. That somehow if Harmony accepts my invitation to the dance tonight and we hold each other the way we held each other in Startford then everything will be rectified.

Somehow it is all about Harmony.

Somehow she is the only one who can redeem.