Hyde Park

Sun streams through the side window of the tour bus in whispers and drapes. We are in London. Vivian is stating the bulk of the city is still rather congested now isn’t it? with the running of the Marathon. The bus idles next to Hyde Park. There seems to be some sort of preordained catering arrangement. We are having boxed lunches at Hyde Park. The box consists of a chicken submarine sandwiches on what looks like Avanits bread from back home. The sun is out. Vivian makes a comment that traffic is still stalled because of the marathon.

There is no sight from Harmony. The Big Ten is performing a reenactment where they pretend they are bowling pins and the moment Trevor walks past them all inexplicably fall down on cue. When I refuse to participate in the ploy Jim Baker disparagingly calls me Depeche Mode.  He tells me to be that way.  I sit on the top of a park bench at eat my sandwich.  I then walk in the direction of the older group feigning like I am walking towards the garbage can. The sun is out. Mark is wearing cool sandals with socks. He is wearing his trench coat and his sunglasses.

"I miss your beret brother.'

He smiles.

Mark smiles again. I ask him how he enjoys London so far.

“After crashing a week in provincial fairy-tale Stratford I’m astonished at how Metropolitan London is.”

I tell Mark that I love it. I tell Mark that I love everything about London.  I tell him that I love the Gloucester. I love cracking open my hotel room window and watching the randomness of humanity skid past.

“When I was a little kid mom would always drive me around and purportedly I would look out the window of our old ’79 station wagon and all I would do is just ask my mom where everyone is going?”

Mark looks at me back and smiles.

“I really enjoyed seeing you at Madame Tussauds. You were crazy. All these Japanese tourists were snapping pictures of you. They thought you were some kind of celebrity.”

“Yeah, I actually got in trouble”.

“!!!!”

“Yeah, one of the Guards or what do you call them. Bobbys or constables or whatever. came up to me. He said something initially and I didn’t move then he said something again stating that if I didn’t, in his vernacular, come along now, they were going to be calling you in.”

Mark is a bad ass.  The coolest human being I have ever met. I just love the way Mark calls me David Mon. As if he is Jamaican. I feel accepted.

“Just one thing David mon, I mean, Madame Tussauds was really righteous. But there was no Bob Marley. I mean. How can you have a place like that and just not have no Bob Marley?”

I have never heard one Bob Marley Song. I can Quote Mark the lyrics to Sweet Black Pussy by Dj Quick. I can quote him the Lyrics to NWA’s ALWAYZ into something. I can quote him the Ghetto Boyz and Compton s most wanted. I have never heard one Bob Marely song. We are deviating away from the group. We are marching as if we have our itinerary. We are marching as brothers. We are marching as one.

The park is configured like Detweiller park in Peoria. It is like I am watching the state cross-country meet from last autumn  all over again. It is like I am falling in love with Susan Gibson from someplace called Trenton Wesclin Illinois. It is like I am watching Brigitte Buitron to lead the pack as a freshman. I am enamored. I will never run in the state meet at Detweiller in Peoria, but suddenly, walking with his ecclesiastic gait, bitching about how there is no Bob Marley, I find myself with a brother. I find myself with the person I somehow envisioned Nat Pflederer becoming.

Finally, throughout this trip it feels like I have found a friend. 

“How’s that girl you were with man?”

I have no clue what Mark is talking about before I realize he is alluding to Harmony.

“She is something else. That name bro. Man, I love that name.”

Mark accedes that she has an immortal and classic name.

“So what’s going on between you two? I mean I can see you really like her.

I am blushing. We have just rounded the vernal ridge. We are walking together. Somewhere I can here Trevor caroling Big Ten give it up. Somewhere I do not care.

“I’m tortured bro. This is crazy but we’ve had two awkward phone conversations since I’ve got here and nothing seems to work out. It’s just awkward. I really like her. I really want to be with her.”

Mark asks me where she is from. I tell him that she is from Soke-cane Washington. I accentuate the cane. Because phonetically it looks like it should be a long a. I have never heard of that city before.

“She’s a beautiful girl. You’re young. But if you want to be with her, I mean, you should tell her how you feel David man.”

Mark calls me David man again

You guys really seem to hit it off. I’m sure she likes you just as much as you like her. I mean, you guys could be like European soulmates or something.”

Somehow Mark seems to know everything about me. Somehow Mark seems to have some sixth sense adumbrating sense of the future.

“I mean, if you guys connected, maybe there’s something still as is to come.”

Mark is smiling. We are out of view from the group. There is at least two American football field distance between ourselves and the group as a whole.

I feel like I am talking to an older bro.

“Also, my group is driving me nuts. It’s like I just don’t fit in brother. The guys in the group are just crazy all the time.”

Mark adds a yeah, it’s a well-constituted apothegm on the trip that your group is pretty sophomoric. 

Sophomoric. A word I have never heard.

I tell Mark that I really enjoy hanging out with his group. I tell him that I like Denis and Heath.  Heath’s cool man.

Mark says yes. He says that he likes his group a lot but he is feeling restricted.

“It’s like we are on the schedule and we can never experience Europe ourselves. David, do you ever feel like that, man. David. Do you know what I am talking about? Do you know what I mean?”

I tell my friend yes.

I tell him I know exactly what he means.