Flanagan's, final lunch in the UK.....

We are en route to Flanagan’s from St Paul's Cathedral. In less than twenty-four hours the collective lifetimes we have spent on this bus will be no more.

I have a window seat still looking out into the aerie stump of St. Pauls. Without notice Josh, the Eagle Scout sits next to me. He as well looks forlorn.

“Sorry that didn’t work out using your skit last night. I’ve seen that skit performed before. That was a killer idea.

Josh nods and says yeah, well and then notes that the girls who performed that skit got first place.

I can't help but think that it was the group which his girlfriend is in. I wonder if her gave her the idea that he clandestinely kept quiet the entire trip. 

“They each got 150 pounds for spending money. That’s like 200 US currency. That''s like alot o.f money”


We cross the Thames. Every time I see Tower Bridge. I think about holding Harmony in my arms.

“Maybe if our group would have known we would have been paid for our endeavors we would have put more of an effort into rehearsing the thing.”

Josh nods and says yes. The bus is purring. Before we know it we seem to be paddling with wheels throughout London. Josh turns to me and sounds like my coach Mr. Ricca when he tells me that everyone missed me when they were out running this morning.

“I had a weird night last night with Harmony. Sometimes she acts like she‘s madly in love with me. Sometimes I feel like I’m smothering her. Sometimes I can’t fathom why I just seem so magnetically attracted to the scent of her smile."

Josh looks and nods as if he knows the feeling. He tells me that he has not seen Harmony at all all day before I remind him that Harmony had a hand in orchestrating the thirty or so youth that are to meet with Lynn Minton and have deep intellectual conversations.

I surmise that because of my age I should have at least been on the second bus but because I got held back in first grade I am a year older than everyone else.

Josh tells me that no one from the first two buses were asked to go.

”It was pretty much just a bus three-and-four thing. They wanted older students because they would be so-called more cognizant of world affairs.”

Josh uses the word cognizant. Only he pronounces it cogh-knee-scent.

“It’s mostly kids from the fourth bus. The older kids. Harmony apparently only asked a few guys from the third bus she had a crush on and her roommate to join the panel.”

Josh says that he knows all this because his girlfriend really wanted to be interviewed and meet with British youth from England.

I smile.

“She’s your girlfriend now, That girl who wears copious amounts of blush who you always run next to when we run?”

Josh seems irked that I commented on the excessive amounts of blush his amour uses. He nods and says yes, technically we are dating.

“Just like you and Harmony right?”

I look down. I don’t know exactly how to respond.

Do you think you are going to see her this summer. I mean,  Do you think you are going to see anyone after this trip is over?”

Chris is again angling the bus across Trafalgar square. As seems customary, every time Chris makes a turn that is seemingly impossible one of the members of the BIG Ten yells BIG TEN GIVE IT UP FOR CHRIS and the entire bus breaks out in stadium like applause.

Josh nods his head. He lives in Colorado. His now official young Columbus girl-friend lives in Virginia, purportedly just outside of Washington DC.

“We’ve already talked about it, I’m going to fly out and visit her in two months. Right around the time of her sixteenth birthday. She says she thinks her parents probably won’t mind if I sleep in the basement.”

“She’s a beautiful girl.” I tell him. Josh smiles. He asks me if I ever think I am going to see Harmony again after the plane ride tomorrow.

I tell him I don’t know. I tell him I live in the Midwest three hours outside Chicago and she lives in Spokane, Washington. He asks me where that’s at. I tell him its on the other side of the state, opposite of Seattle.

He tells me that it still possible. He asks me if I think she would ever save money and come up to visit me. I tell him probably, even though I honestly don’t think she ever would.

“It’s not just with Harmony. It’s with everyone on this trip. I mean, we are still one unit, one solitary membrane, and yet it feels like we are already beginning to drift apart even though we have another day left.”

Josh turns to me. He tells me that he hasn’t thought about that yet. The bus pauses. We are outside of Flanagan’s. 

It is time for lunch.

                                                                        ***

I am expecting her to tell me that it is no way possible that it ever would have worked out between us.

Instead she tells me that she is writing this letter at the stroke of midnight, ninety-four, ninety-five.

She tells me that she is anticipating everything that this year will offer.

She tells me that she cannot think of a more opportune way to spend her year.

She tells me that this is how she wants to spend her year.

She asks me to join her.


                                                                             ***

“This is the pub where your track coach told you to eat?” I ask my roommate Justin.

We are having traditional fish and chips. They serve Stella and Guinness on draught. Every pub I have been in in England with the exception of potato-pub outside of Blenheim which serves only local cask ale serves Stella Artois.

I have not seen Budweiser or Miller Draft on tap once.

Mark-Andrew is nowhere in sight.

We are having fish and chips at Flanagan’s.  There is an oak bar behind me.

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you to get out there and run everyday. My cross-country and distant track coach told me to enjoy myself but to try to get out and run at least three times. The Varsity Coach told me that if I was a junior or a senior he wouldn’t let me go because I’d be costing the team too many points.”

“That’s the two things my track coach back home said when I told him I was going to London. He told me to go to West Minister Abby and to eat at Flannagns.”

Part of me looks around in periscopic fashion to see if Mark will be served when walks to the Oak helm, of the bar.

I grab the bottle of vinegar and begin to dapple it both on my fish and chips. Both Jim Baker and Spencer keep correcting everyone, stating that chips are something that come in little bags with ruffles on them.

There is no sight of Mark or Denis. I sit across from Justin and Chris. Justin seems just to stoically chomp into his chips. From the next table over I can overhear Trevor inform Sir Charles that that dude on the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral studied at the University in my home town and then say the word irony. There is no sign of Rita either. It is like something counter magnetic is keeping us apart.

One of the members asks if there’s going to be another dance at the medieval banquet we are to attend later tonight. Chris bites into a chip and the inquires if Harmony liked the teddy bear I purchased from him for her.

“She loved it, She thought it was adorable. I thank you.”

“When did you give it to her?”

“Yesterday right when we got back from Windsor Castle. We left the hotel and went for a walk around Gloucester road and held hands. It was perfect.” Both Chris and Justin’s eyes prop up.

“We only left the hotel for a minute. We just walked down the street.”

I thank Chris again. I do the junior high thing and tell him that he got me major points.

Chris smiles. Justin blathers his mantra bout every girl on this trip still not being as hot as his girlfriend back from Lincoln, Nebraska. 

I splatter drips of vinegar on my chips.  I then drip it on my fish as well. Several of the boys behind us are grousing, with telling Trevor that he is sick of British food and that do you think we could perhaps stop at McDonald en route to Harrods so that we could have a real meal again.

I tell Trevor that I like this place. That one of my best friends from home last name is Flanagan.

Trevor looks at the tap of beer for three seconds and then reverts his head and goes for he door.

Alright Yo. 


Big Ten give it up.

Time to leave and never come back.

Time to fly.