Mar 11, 2008 13:04
Would you care for an evening post?
God. I can remember the exact moment when I knew
it was ending. I remember the thick smoke that crept
around the pub, slowly counting the pounds in my wallet
and the warm Guiness that I barely sipped. Scattered
voices were hushed when we first arrived, but picked up as the
night grew colder and the streets cleared.
I wanted to remember the moment, even though it would haunt me
continually for another year or so. We barely talked
as I scribbled on a damp napkin. I recall feeling under dressed
everywhere in that city, and that night was no exception.
The walls were a dark hue of red and a harsh light from another
room that we didn't bother to explore cast a
disapproving shadow across the bar.
He went to sleep early and I had an online meeting in the hotel
lobby at 2 AM. After about an hour of heckling, a few drunk
Americans lured me to the bar and I eagerly listened about Holland,
the Black Crowes and the Lowell Mills. I fought the
overwhelming urge to escape from the hotel and wander the streets
of London alone. Surely, there were other curious
and restless people...