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Today we actually started looking around London. Or at least that was the idea we had in the morning…

We started with a walk to Harrod’s at Kensington, about 10 minutes away. We spent most of the walk griping at each other about mostly stupid stuff, which is pretty much the norm. When we arrived at the store, we did some shopping and I went nearly insane. When I go to a store, I buy things I need. Lisa, on the other hand, has to walk through the entire store, looking at and touching every single goddamned thing in the whole building, picking it up and examining it thoughtfully. This drives me into madness. So as she shopped my griping got louder and longer. I had also skipped breakfast and I was feeling pretty shitty, which did not help my otherwise charming mood.

After Harrod’s we had lunch at Green Man Pub which is downstairs within Harrod’s, and then Lisa had to buy some new shoes because the ones she had were killing her feet. I bought some new pants at the Big & Tall store next door while I waited for her. That was the only store that sold pants that had a leg longer than 28. Apparently all British men are about five-foot-two. I don’t get it. Anyway, they were totally expensive pants, about 75 pounds ($125 or so, I dunno, it requires math). At least they will fit.

All in all, we spent half the day in stores with me waiting around impatiently.

We took an open-top double-decker bus tour of London and saw most of the stuff we wanted to see without having to walk around in the crowds. There was a guy sitting next to us who kept us company. Neil, from Manchester. It was Neil’s first time in London, and with everything he saw it was “Cor! Blimey!” and he would snap pictures. Most of his pictures were of hotels and buildings with scaffolding up the walls. I don’t know what the deal is with scaffolding here in London — maybe it’s a restoration project or something — but every goddamn building here has pipe scaffolding up the sides of it. Even the churches and monuments, it all has scaffolds. With Neil’s pictures he could present a “Scaffolding Tour of London” slide show. He was a pretty loud guy, making jokes and wisecracks about everything and telling one-liners about the Royal family and soccer (sorry, “football”) players, and I didn’t get half of what the hell he was going on about. He was a bit of a loudmouth. My kinda guy… I liked him right away.

After the bus tour we had dinner at the Hard Rock Café, which is the same as every other Hard Rock Café in the world, sort of like a McDonald’s with memorabilia. I don’t see the big deal, but I bought a stupid T-shirt anyway. What a racket.

On our way back to the hotel, I stopped at one of the quaint little red phone booths to take pictures and was a little surprised when I went inside. The inside was wallpapered with ads for sex and totally weird shit. One in particular caught my eye — it was a plain white poster with the words “CANE ME? SPANK ME! A-LEVEL SERVICES” in big black letters. I wasn’t too sure what to make of this one… I mean, CANING??? Isn’t that what they did to that kid back in Taiwan when he egged all those cars, and it left deep scars on him?? I had to call up and have some fun with this. It went a little something like this:

I put a pound in the phone and a woman answered.

“Hi,” I said, “I’m new to this country and I saw your ad, and I have a question or two. What’s an A-level service?”

“Anal,” she replied.

“Oh,” I said, “you mean like fisting?”

There was a pause, then: “What?”

“Fisting. You know.”

“What, do you mean on you? Yes, we provide A-level services to the clients.”

“No, I mean on one of your models.”

“Oh, God no,” she answered.

“I see,” I said. “Well, what about arming?”

“Arming?”

“Yes,” I said, “it’s one level beyond fisting.”

“Wait a moment,” she said, “what exactly is fisting?”

“Hm? You don’t know what fisting is?”

“No,” she answered a bit apprehensively, “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Well, it’s, you know, like the name implies. It’s an A-level service.”

She paused for a moment, so I filled the silence with another question:

“What’s this ‘cane me’ business? Is this like a real caning? Because I’m in the mood to open the skin on a girl’s backside with a twelve-inch stick of rattan…”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted, “but I’m afraid we’ve nothing for you.”

She quickly hung up the phone and I immediately deposited another pound and dialed the number again.

“Hello?”

“What about a barium enema? That’s an A-level ser–” She slammed the phone down again and Lisa and I couldn’t contain our laughter any more. I guess they didn’t want my business bad enough.

We took the tube back to the hotel and it was my first time on a subway. Nothing exciting to report about that — there’s a first time for everything.

I’m having a good time but I guess I’m not very impressed with London yet. It reminds me of every other major metropolitan city I’ve ever been to, except maybe this one’s a bit cleaner and the buildings are older. But the streets are all jacked… I go around the corner a couple times and I’m completely turned around. I’m just not into the swing of things yet, and I feel a little out of my element. I must sound like a real American tourist idiot because every time I ask someone here a question they look at me like I’m from Mars.

Next up: Stonehenge…