Aloha!

My family organized a reunion in Florida last week and as I mentioned in a previous entry, I couldn’t go because I’m stuck in the UK, passport-less waiting for a yay or nay on citizenship.

But you know what? It didn’t stop me. I’ve been in similar situations before and when I felt like I was missing out, I did something about it. (Going to Australia? Not without me!)

Behold the Family Reunion 2009 photo:

Now complete with me and Scott. I would have given Lisa the Lobster a run for her money had I been there in all my tiki drink glory, if I do say so myself. And Scott? Well, he’s so excited, he clearly cannot hide it.  He couldn’t even contain his hip-shaking moves for the photo op.

Nobody has a luau without us.

My mom will be so proud

Remember that uneaten cheeseburger found in my handbag?

Well, when I told my mom the story, not only was she horrified that I fell asleep at Kings Cross, but she was visibly worried that I had picked the cheeseburger out of the trash or something.

Since I couldn’t remember buying it, she was convinced I had rummaged around for something to eat and hit the jackpot with an uneaten, wrapped cheeseburger. Because people throw those away all the time. And it’s so easy to find a trash can in London.

But she can rest easy.  I checked my bank account yesterday and whaddya know…there is a charge for a lone cheeseburger.

Yes, I charged a cheeseburger to my card but most impressively, I remembered my PIN.

Getting merry

I am not that much of a drinker. Honest. I don’t usually order a glass of wine with dinner. I don’t go out on the lash that much. Sometimes I don’t have a drop of alcohol for months. But this Christmas has been different. I have literally drank my way through the holiday season.

I know for some people that is normal. For some people that is absolutely necessary just to survive the holidays.

I suppose because people have been demob happy before the holidays, everyone was up for a drink after work and then there were all the Christmas parties. (Plus Brits just really know how to drink…)

For the two weeks leading up to Christmas, I hardly saw Scott because we were both out at work parties or after work drinks. We’d grumble to each other in the morning about how we had to go to stupid work and how bad our heads hurt.

The night before Christmas break I drank too much. You know the feeling when you walk out of the pub and it suddenly hits you. I managed to catch a bus to Kings Cross and find my train. Then I missed my train because I fell asleep in the bathroom at Kings Cross. Who does that?! (Besides my husband…)

I woke up when the cleaning lady banged on the door and I made a real effort to smile and tell her I was fine. She seemed to believe me and I got the next train home. By some miracle, I woke up just as the doors opened at my station and autopilot kicked in and I made it back to the flat safe and sound.

The next morning, as I was getting ready, I found an uneaten McDonalds cheeseburger in my handbag. You know you’ve had a good night when you find a cheeseburger in your bag.

Of course I wasn’t in the best of shape on Christmas Eve and opted out of drinking on Christmas Day by nominating myself to be the designated driver. Yes, Christmas with Scott’s family requires a designated driver. The alcohol was flowing and my diet Cokes just weren’t cutting it when we got to round 22 of charades. Watching his grandmother act out Winnie the Pooh and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang just isn’t right without a shot or 10.

So when I arrived in DC on Sunday and was greeted by my parents at International Arrivals, the first thing they asked was, “How are you feeling?” I told them I was ok – tired, but ok. And then they asked if I wanted to go wine-tasting at the winery they belong to.

And how could I say no?

You’ll be pleased to know that I haven’t drank since Sunday. However, I am going to happy hour with high school friends tonight.

I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting in my handbag tomorrow.

I hope your holiday celebrations were filled with only wonderful surprises!

Stupidity Tax: 100 euros

We were in Barcelona this past weekend celebrating a friend’s 30th birthday. We had been to Barcelona before so it was nice to just chill out this time – drinking sangria, eating tapas, browsing the markets, and hanging out with friends.

The chilling out stopped abruptly at 9:04pm on Sunday evening when we realized we were not on a train to the airport. Instead, we were on a train heading down the coast of Spain.

There were several red flags – like the fact that we were on a cushy, high speed train and that maps of  the whole of Spain were where maps of Barcelona would be – but you know what they say about hindsight.

When the ticket collector asked for our tickets, you could see the irritation in his face when he said we were not on the right train and not only were we going entirely the wrong direction, we also wouldn’t be stopping for another 45 minutes.

We couldn’t do anything except sit there and watch as Barcelona, and the airport, got further and further away. When the train finally stopped, we ran out of the station to find a taxi. We had just under an hour to get to the airport before our flight left and even then we probably would not make the flight.

Luckily Scott speaks Spanish so he was able to explain that we had taken the wrong train and needed to get to the airport as soon as possible. The taxi driver wouldn’t make any promises but we decided it was our only option. We waved goodbye to our friends who would be waiting for the next train back into the city as they did not have a flight to catch.

My stomach was in knots at the thought of missing the last flight of the night, having to sleep in the airport and paying for new flights on Easyjet. When I’m in these situations (and this sort of thing has happened before) I like to just sit there, in silence, praying and hoping and wishing that it all turns out ok.

Scott likes to talk. It’s probably the only time he likes to talk. He likes to give me a running commentary on what time it is, how long we have to go, how expensive the taxi will be, where we’ll go if we don’t make the flight, etc. Every two minutes he would tell me the time and say, “We’re never going to make it.”

Needless to say, it was a long drive where I had to hold myself back from strangling Scott in the backseat. After all, I needed him to communicate with the driver.

Of course, when we arrived at the airport, we didn’t have any cash and Scott went sprinting all over the airport looking for a cash machine. I watched him go back and forth behind the glass windows. The taxi driver made judgmental clicking noises with his tongue and asked, “London?”

I replied, “Yeah, if we make the flight!” But the taxi driver had exhausted his English with just the one word and could only give me confusing looks.

Scott returned, paid the taxi driver, and we ran to departures. Only to look up at the departures screen and see that our flight had been delayed for over two hours. We stood there, panting and laughing and then cursing our luck. If only we had known before risking our lives in a crazy taxi ride and forking over 100 euros!

We agreed that it could have been much worse and settled for paying the stupidity tax and vowing to always allow extra time to get to the airport. Oh, and to double-check what train we’re on.

We finally got to sleep around 4am and I was up for work at 6am. It was rough but worth it.

We stayed in Barcelo Raval hotel – it was awesome and it’s only been open for a month. I definitely recommend it.

I loved all the window coverings in Barcelona.

We had beautiful, warm, sunny weather in Barcelona. Now we’re back to London where tonight it will be colder than Iceland and Moscow. It even snowed.

Like rush hour, but fun

It is not uncommon for me to sit across from an impeccably dressed businessman on the train and as I’m opening my magazine, he’s opening a can of beer. Some would say it is the perfect way to wind down after a rough day at the office.

As of June 1, no one is allowed to crack open a brewski on the London underground. This won’t change what I see on my commute since drinking booze is still allowed onboard the overland trains but it has outraged people. Especially since this is the first piece of legislation the new mayor of London has pushed through. Talk about priorities!

About a month ago, we started to see promotional material about the upcoming ban on drinking and carrying open containers of alcohol on the Tube. Soon after, groups started forming on facebook and suddenly everyone was talking about “Last Orders” – a party on the Circle Line the night before the alcohol ban.

We didn’t intend on being part of the celebrations but if you were in London on Saturday night and you were using public transport, you could not have missed the party. And we actually had alcohol on us since we had just come from a BYOB restaurant and we overestimated the amount of alcohol we’d actually drink with our Indian meal. So we passed around our bottles and joined in.

We stood on the platform at Aldgate East and waited and waited for our train. Several trains past, filled with people. And this was the District Line, not even where the party was. Six stations closed due to overcrowding.

What we saw on Saturday night was a true testament to the powers of social networking sites. Sadly as the BBC reported, some party-goers got out of hand and several people were hurt. But for many, it was, as one party-goer said, “Like rush hour, but fun.”

Here are some photos from the night (taken from readers’ photos on thelondonpaper.com and bbc.com)

People dressed up as the new mayor, Boris Johnson:

And a video I took of some action at Aldgate East station before it was closed. What you’re seeing is a packed train and you’re hearing the shouting and screaming of the cocktail party.

Three’s company

Dear Mom and Dad,

I thought I’d update you on how things are going with having your youngest daughter, Lisa, living with us. And what better way to do it than to show you photos of our time together.

We’ve been exposing her to new food.

We’ve been doing lots of sisterly things.

We’ve been helping her refine her choice in beverages.

And we’ve been there for her in the bad times…

And the good times…

We’re including her in group outings.

And lest you think we aren’t doing anything useful or educational…

We’re also teaching her how to dance!

We’re going traveling soon so we should have more “substance” in future entries but for now this will have to do.

And what am I learning from all this? Well, I’m realizing what it’s like when she ‘forgets’ to call home and how long her showers really are.

Love,

Caitlin

Obrigado, Portugal!

This week in pictures:

Where we stayed:

What we did:

What we drank:

Who got so sunburned he had to borrow a sequined scarf to wear around his forehead:

Who had to sing and dance when the Portuguese band didn’t know the words to American Pie:

American Pie in Portugal
Uploaded by taitertots

Scott on vocals and Kirsty showing off the moves

Happy New Year

We wrote the 2006 Retrospective but didn’t mention how we welcomed in 2007. We went over to a friend’s house in Buckinghamshire and had a nice meal (Caitlin contributed delicious American brownies and strawberry cupcakes) and then…everyone went a bit crazy with the karaoke machine. We only did a couple of songs and preferred sitting back, watching others embarrass themselves. It was a great night…however, Elton John’s Don’t go breaking my heart was stuck in our heads for the entire first week of January.

Scott and Nick singing Spandau Ballet’s Gold:

Say Goodbye to the Summer

So…this weekend marks the end of BST (British Summer Time) – or as our American friends and family like to call it: Daylight Saving Time. This is good because it means our weekend, or more precisely, our Saturday night, is one hour longer. Brilliant. This weekend we are going out for Nik’s (of groomsman fame) birthday on Saturday and to our first official dinner party on Sunday. I have to admit to being a little nervous about the latter. You see, I have never actually been to a real dinner party before. Sure, I have been over to a friend’s house for a bite to eat and some drinks but this is a proper dinner party with several couples and people Cait used to work with…at least one of whom has a doctorate. Most of my work mates are up for a night out on the town so this is something somewhat alien to me. That said, I am looking forward to a new experience and will be sure to report the day’s events on our blog.

Anyway, I digress. Back to the end of summertime. This year, I am a little concerned. You see, it will be November next week and the trees still have all their leaves. We have had an exceptionally warm October (rarely below 18C or about 65F in old money) which is a grand thing in that I have not once had to scrape ice off the car yet, but if you take a more holistic perspective it is actually quite scary. Cait and I went to see the movie “An Inconvenient Truth” a couple of weeks ago (I suggest you do the same). I was expecting some left-wing partisan quasi-political film but it wasn’t at all like that – it was a clear presentation of undisputable facts and a fair and rational description of the likley consequences of human induced global warming. Anyway, I’m well aware that still now there are people who dispute the facts – but all I am saying is that when I walk outside on October 27th and the trees still look as they did in July, it doesn’t take Einstein to figure out that something is not as it should be.

On a lighter note – I did my own little bit of global warming last weekend by taking a flight to Krakow, Poland for the stag do (or bachelor party) of my good friend, Adrian. He is getting married to his Chinese girlfriend, in China, in December. That will be the first time he meets her parents, whom I understand he has already managed to insult over the phone by mispronouncing several key Chinese words. Anyway, we went to celebrate the end of his bachelorhood by invading an Eastern European city for 3 days and drinking their fine, and inexpensive, beer. It was a jolly old time. The highlights of which included go-karting (I came 3rd of 18) and having Aidy kidnapped Polish Secret Police style. Basically we paid some guy who we found on the Internet (and known only to us as “Crazy Mike”) to set up a fake “arrest” where Aidy would be bundled, handcuffed, and dragged out of a bar by the police for being drunk and disorderly. They then put a bag over his head and drove him around in the back of a van for an hour before returning him to the bar where he discovers he is not, in fact, going to be charged or tortured or killed, but that it was all a joke by his well-meaning friends. He then gets a beer, or 5, for his trouble. I have to say, it was hilarious.

Well, must sign off. Much work to do before the weekend begins in earnest. Look out for the next entry on our carving of a Hallowe’en Jack-o-lantern. That was a lark.