20 May 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, No Comments.
05/20 London, England
The clouds had parted and the wings of our plane began to dry. The very first thing I noticed was that “I wasn’t in Kansas anymore”. Gatwick Airport had green pastures on both sides of the runway. Unconcerned cows looked up at our passing plane. This was a total contrast to the cement landscape we left behind in LA.
Jim’s expression suddenly changed from not knowing what to expect, to anger. Literally – he was ripping at the seams. Although he considered himself and expert in space management and even bragged about it a couple of times on the plane, he had brought way too much stuff. Until that is, his well-packed belongings spilled onto the floor of an airport corridor. He began yelling at stationary objects, fending off suggestions and blaming everything except the obvious – he brought way too much shit.
We didn’t have a destination or a preconceived idea of where we would start this journey but after this incident, we decided neither one of us wanted to lug this much shit around. So we headed off toward Victoria station. We exchanged our first dollars for pounds and took ownership of a couple of large lockers. Then off we were – free – to explore London.
We could hear the beating of drums echo through the streets and proceeded wandering down along the Thames toward the rhythm. Like young natives appearing to be darting aimlessly through the jungle, yet every step lead us closer to the campfire. We came upon a mass of people who had gathered around a Reggae band playing their last set of a free concert. The rain had just passed through London and the clouds above separated us from the rays of sunlight. The crowd, captivated by the rhythm, was standing in mud to get a better view of the band.
As we turned away from the music and began to walk toward one of the many bridges, I heard a voice from behind me say “Those that do nothing can still end up in jail”. I turned and noticed a couple whose dog I had pet just moments earlier. In hindsight I consider myself quite naïve. I was carrying a knife attached to my belt, something I had never done before. He was right it wasn’t at all a good idea to be parading around an offensive object. Objects like these tend to attract their own kind and its best not to be stereotyped in this way. I accepted his friendly advice and tucked away the knife. He had a smile in his eyes and an edge to his smile. The sun was beginning to hide itself behind the buildings and my mind was beginning to center on where we were going to be sleeping tonight. I attempted to strike a common cord to perhaps obtain some good advice on where to stay for the night. I painted I asked if he could suggest a local pub or club where we could see some good local music later in the week.
Then much like the unexpected weather we were extended a gesture of kindness. “We don’t have much to offer but you are welcome to stay with us”. Naturally an unexpected response for somebody raised in Los Angeles! The media back home keeps the populace afraid and on their defense. We followed the three of them home – Mik, Deb and their dog Charlie. About half way along our journey we boarded a traditional double-decker bus. As if on an amusement ride I jumped up onto the upper deck to enjoy the view. I don’t think we got more than four blocks before smoke started coming up from below. Our first tourist endeavor was left for dead in the middle of the street.
Adjacent to their living room was a small kitchen where Deb began to prepare vegetarian hamburgers. As far as I was concerned it didn’t taste anything like meat but I smiled and endured every bite like the courteous guest I try to be. Charlie liked it. Mik entertained us all night with numerous stories of past travels and his growing fear of nuclear war. It was about half way into the evening when Mik started dancing around the subject of drugs and eventually came to the question he was trying to ask “Do you guy’s smoke hash”. Mick referred to as “Paint”. This made perfect sense since he was a painter by trade and this made solicitations over the phone a little less obvious. About the time we started feeling its effects Jim’s face said it all. Not only were we getting high, we had a comfortable place to lay our heads, interesting company and it was all free. It was hard to believe we had just stepped off the plane hours ago with no plans or expectations. I went to bed with visions from the poster hanging above my bedpost. Its nuclear mushroom would glow with the each passing cars.
