Day 9: April 21st, 1993 morning. Last full day in London....cheers...

 

It is 6:30 am London time. The sun slips through the window. It is spring. Justin snores in such a way that it sounds like a clogged dish disposal. I tell Justin to wake-up. I tell him that we need to eat breakfast. I shake Justin several times. I tell him that Big Ten is in the house. Justin lets go of a ruffled purr. A string of saliva yo-yo's from the side of his lips. He is sleeping with his bible next to his pillow. He looks like he just O.d.'d on Jesus.

"Justin man, comeon'. Last full day in London. It's time to live it up bro."

Justin snorts and then swats at me as if I were a horsefly.  I go over and adjust the window drapes as stipples of sunlight backspin across the room.

"Justin man. This is it. This is our last day. No more skits. We can relax and just live it up."

Justin warbles something back about how he was unable to sleep cause I was on the phone all last night with a certain someone. I punt the bottom of his bed in loving retaliation. I go into the bathroom. I attack my hair in the silo of whatever passes for British hairspray before leaving the room in search of caffeinated ambrosia.

I yell out Justin's name and slam the door as hard as I can.

  
In the hallway everything smells like windex and fresh linen.

I sniff the hallway.  I go to the elevator and press L. I have been on the phone with Harmony all night. I have been holding her. I have been verbally marshaling mandates on where she is to place succinct dactyls of her blithe anatomy.

It’s like I can feel Harmony all around me.

Still we have not kissed.

In the lobby the tang-flavored light ricochets off the gilded stag in a beam.  I wave at several of the Bus Drivers who are looking to go outside for a smoke.  I see Vivian chatting with the other female tour guide Her umbrella next to her like an idle bayonet.

She says good morning only it sounds like good morrow. For some reason I am nervous to talk one on one with my tour guide.

"Hey, Vivian, I just wanted to tell you that I really enjoyed hearing your poetry last night. It was really beautiful. It was really professional."

Vivian blushes. Her way of saying thank you is 'How very kind of you to say.' Vivian says that poetry happens to be somewhat  a hobby of hers.
 
"Well, I enjoyed it immensely."

Vivian smiles. She expresses her gratitude again. She calls me Young man. She tells me to hurry up and get some breakfast Young Man because we have quite a day ahead of us.

Now don't we?

 Half the group that is meeting with Lynne Minton and the kids from London to talk about life. Harmony’s job is to set up the tape recorder and to get everyone’s name in the conversation and to note who’s talking about what contemporary and global issues pertaining to the youth of today as well as to participate in the conversation and to dress nice and sit next to Lynn Minton in the hotel banquet room when the British youth arrive. I scoop up and extra heap of eggs at breakfast. 

I am by myself. 

The lady has already placed a carafe of coffee at my table. I am smiling.  I am hoping I don’t run into any of the Big Ten. I consider sitting at a table with Young Columbusians I have not met.  I see  Lois Lane waling with Orlando Sanchez from Mark's group.  Several girls from Daisy's group are seated at a table as well.

Today is the change in our schedule. Today we were originally planned to go to St. Pauls.

 

I am eating breakfast by myself when I hear a tray clatter into the vacant seat next to me.

I see Banky. Banky who is from Billings Montana. Banky who is Spencer’s roommate. Banky who none of us know his real name or what his vice sounds like. Banky who is always wears a red UNLV cap.  Banky who kind of looks like an emaciated Charlie Brown character. I want to ask Banky why he has been so sociologically reticent and standoffish the entirity of this trip. I want to ask Banky what he thought about our skit last night. I want to ask Banky what it is like crashing with Spencer.
 
 
              I want to Banky anything ao that I can hear his voice.

            I honestly don't believe that he speaks. 

                        

“You excited about seeing St. Pauls today?”

 

Banky nods.

 

"What’s it like crashing with Spencer. It’s probably not as bad as crashing with old Jim Baker but I’m sure it is intriguing nonetheless.

 

People are sliding into the breakfast. There is no sight of Choctawahtchee Heather or the Polite Baptist Boy from Alabama.  There is no Tamera or Sheila. Dimas and Longhorn walk in and immediately begin grousing that there is too much light.

 

I wonder if they went out and got drunk again last night.  I am still waiting for Banky to respond when a voice registers behind me.

 

"Hey yo, Tone is this seat taken?”

I look around It is Sam and several kids from his group.  I pour myself more coffee and point at the chair in the manner of a game show hostess at a prize and say please.

 

Sam is back to his jocular mien. Before I can introduce Sam to Banky the mute he turns around and says so, Big Time last day eh, while elbowing me in the ribcage.

“Where’s Vinny at? Is he okay”  I am curious. I want to know if Vinny is alright. I want to know if he received an update about his brother who tried to commit suicide yesterday.

“Oh, your girlfriend asked him to participate in that there Lynn Minton interview so he’s sleeping in since they don’t have to met in the lobby until 9.”

I tell Sam Congrats on getting second place in the skit contest last night. He tells me that the money is really going to help because the tank is running just a little bit above E if I know what he’s saying. 

Sam smiles. He jostles his elbow in my ribcage again. At the end of this trip, I am going to miss Sam.

“Hey man, again, thanks for takin’ the time out and talkin’ with Vinny. I mean, you really helped him out. You should be a psychologist or something soemday. You are really good.

 

I tell Sam thank you even though I am still kinda lost why he thinks I am a therapist.  In the breakfast area Daisy’s group is seated by themselves. Apparently there was drama last with Baker isolating Daisy in the Porno Palace. Purportedly Daisy snitched to Simone and then got yet another talking-to from Sir Charles and Trevor.    

 

Sam is wearing a Hawaiian shirt like he is going to a luau. Somehow he has folded up his glossy itinerary into his side pocket so that it unravels in geometrical rectangles when he opens it.

“Let’s see, we were supposed to have Madame Tussuads today but instead we have St. Paul’s and Harrods and then the Medieval goodbye Banquet later on tonight.

“Yeah, Vivian told us on the bus yesterday that Harrods has a rather stringent dress code and you can’t wear shorts or have a Mohawk or anything.”

I glance around the room. I feel like there is something I was supposed to do this morning that I forgot about. Still it seems like there are less Yong Columbusians in the room then I remember that the bulk of the erudite scholars are probably sleeping in.  I pour another shot of coffee.  Sam asks a member of his group if he plans on eating that last sausage link even though it is a buffet. From behind me there is a key-hole shadow. I hear a feminine giggle.  As I look back the shadow roves the opposite direction. Sam is beginning to laugh in his millionaire-semi-ample huzzah. However it is  too lanky and agile to be  Harmony  There is more laughter Even Banky is smiling.

When I swivel around I see her.

It is Our Wendy

“Hello Our Wendy.”

“ Hello David-who supports-right-wing-insurgent-demagogues-and-wans’t-very-funny-at-all in the skit last night.”

She again sticks her tongue out at me. Sam is smiling at the direction of Our Wendy. He is speaking to Wendy on behalf of his group.”

“Heya Wendy thanks for letting us borrow  that there dress last night.”

She smiles. She says remember the deal. Sam Shrugs and says that she will have her bounty as soon as the checks-get-cashed so to speak.

 

“Wendy I thought you were on the list with all the smart kids who are s’ppose to meet with Lynn Minton in a couple of hours. Most of them are sleeping. What are you doing down here?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know Day-vid Von Behren.”

Our Wendy sticks her tongue out at me again emitting a semi-flatulent pltttttttthhh! sound. I have no clue how Our Wendy knows my last name since I know I never divulged hat information with her. Shit I’m not even sure if Harmony knows my last name. 

 As I turn to yell at her hoping to inquire how she knows my last name when Sam chuckles several more times while elbowing me in the ribcage.

“Isn’t she sumthin’? I tell you, Our Wendy.” Sam continues to chuckle. There is something reminiscent of a surgeon and a scalpel in the way he is holding his fork.

I look at Our Wendy. She walks with her back very straight like a thermometer with limbs. She is talking to several of the counselors by the door.

"What did she mean by bounty?"

Sam stops for a second and looks like he is trying to figure out a dinner tip with his eyes before responding.

"She said we could borrow her dress but that if our group won anything we had to give 10 percent of winnings to her. Everyone gets fifty pounds which means she gets 50 pounds as well and we each get 45. I tell you, she beat us at our own game. That there is one Shrewd kid, Our Wendy."

“Yeah, it was weird, she called me by my first and last name.”

Sam sets down his fork and says so.

“I never told her my last name. I’ve maybe spent two minutes of this trip in conversation with her and she knows my last name.”

Sam chuckles again .He says that’s Our Wendy as if he is in a sitcom waiting for the pre-recorded track of applause.  On the far curvature of the table Spin Doctor Kenny and Mike set their trays down. Kenny looks like he has not gotten any sleep at all.

“Long night?” I ask taking another swig of caffeine. Spin Doctor Kenny looks down and swipes his chin between each shoulder.

“Baker man. Baker is crazy.”

I tell him yeah. I tell him I heard that Baker played a crack on Dandelion-Daisy last night and locked her in the Porno Palace. Spin Doctor Kenny says no there is more.

“It got worse. Apparently Baker pooped in a cup, knocked on Dandelion's door and when she opened it she threw up.”

“Bark gave Daisy human feces?”

Mike says yeah before snorting a little bit of juice through his nose.

“Apparently he got the idea after hearing something about the Groom of the Stool. He handed the cup to Daisy saying that it was a gift from Spencer and she threw up and the whole hallway just stunk. I mean it was rancid. The maids had to come and spray it down.

“Trevor and Charles know about this?”

Spin Doctor Kenney says that that’s the thing and that's why it was a long night.

“They made Tits take down all the porn on his walls. He was pretty upset.  They confiscated all the porn he had in his room but apparently he has a lot more hidden that Trevor and Charles don’t know about.”

“Tits is sure getting a lot of strikes.”

Spin Doctor Kenny says that its not that.

“I mean, the counselors don’t want to sit on the bus all day. A lot of his shenanigans are just boys will be boys.  Apparently if he acts up or says anything remotely inappropriate today he is barred from going to the banquet tonight.

I like Spin Doctor Kenny.  I admire his candor. I admire his Connecticut accent where none of the words seem to drop.



Some of the runners come back, Josh still seems aggrieved that the skit that won the talent show last intrinsically stole our skit and that if we all would have buckled down and just focused instead of goofing off we each would have had 100 pounds more to splurge when we go shopping later on today at Harrod’s.

Meg Weaver comes in, still wearing her shorts showcasing seminally-dotted freckled and half albino thighs, a treacle of sweat still visible on her forehead, as if she has just made love in a spring Wicca ceremony.

 

I tell everyone at the table excuse me.

I tell her hi just to watch her smile. She responds as if on cue.

“Everyone missed you running this morning. There wasn’t many. Just Josh and his girl and Dan and myself. Josh had a bit of a limp so we didn't go very fast.

Mentally I say the word shit, realizing that this would have been my last day to run in England. Realizing that the athletic jaunt down Brompton road somehow would have been secondary to running next to Meg Weaver and watching her smile.

“I would have told you about it yesterday but it seemed like you wanted to spend all of your time with Harmony and Harmony is not a runner.”

“She’s been real busy with that Lynn Minton stuff. Today is the day. I haven’t seen her anywhere.

“Yeah, Harmony is the only girl in our group who was selected to do that, although I think she recruited Janelle La Flaneuer and Maggie.”

I say the British neologism bloody followed by the word nepotism. Meg smiles. I take another swig of my coffee. I ask her how the run was.

“It just wasn’t the same without you.” She says, before looking down, motioning the waitress for a tea refill. I look back in Meg’s glazed saltine forehead still sweetly resined with a hint of sweat. I can’t stop smiling.

“The next time I’m in Pennsylvania I’ll bring my running shoes and we can go running together, just the two of us.”

She shoots me a look as if to indicate don’t I think that Harmony will get envious. I shoot her a look back as if to indicate yes.

She smiles.

           
“The next time you are in Pennsylvania it is a date.”

I lift up my coffee cup and clink it into the vessel she is drinking her tea out of. I tell her the only thing I know how to tell her.

 

I tell her cheers.