Monday, Monday, Monday, May 29th

Today I came back from the j-ihm? to find our RA, Jess, in our room talking to Dan and Julian. Unfortunately and inexplicably the power of Flat Captain was bestowed upon me. Besides reserving the right to have my way with any member of Flat 6, at anytime, I was granted the awesome powers of planning out and enforcing a cleaning rotation for the kitchen, as well as the privilege of walking around to each room to determine and document any existing defacements or necessary repairs.

Regardless of my complete and utter contempt for this unprovoked and, albeit, random assignment, I've decided to use my newly appointed position to exploit my friends and flat members by making them call me, "The Captain." Just kidding, that's not really true. I did recall, however, the wise words of Peter Parker (aka Spiderman's) Uncle Ben: "With great power comes great responsibility." So, naturally, this led me to ponder... W.W.B.R.C.D. (what would big ron coleman do)?

I came to the conclusion that the best possible route to maintaining a clean kitchen and common area was to: 1. (With the help of Dan and Julian) clean up the existing messes left by uncaring flat members and inform them that everyone must, from hereon in, be responsible for looking after his or her own dishes, so as to begin anew with a clean plate (pun intended); 2. Intimidate and threaten everyone in the flat both verbally and physically; and 3. Concoct a story that the person we discover guilty of taking advantage of our communal kindness will be reported to BU StudentLife and subject to a 220 pound fine.

In the evening we decided to take a walk about a club called Walkabout. Can't beat 1 pound pints, especially when you (me) have only 15 pounds left, because Bank of America has screwed up your Visa checking card and you do not have access to (Wilmer Valderrama accent)"Cash, Money."

Recovery Sunday, May 28th

It's pretty tough waking up at the crack of 5:00pm, unless your name is Dan Agar. Buddy, we all commend you for a valient and successful endeavor which ended no more than 12 hours ago.

While Dan slept off his birthday bash, Julian, Matt, our friend Marisa and I took a trip to Hyde Park - where we were forced to sit on the ground (and not in chairs) because we are American and did not feel like spending 3 pounds an hour. We spent the first genuinely sunny day sitting by the pond and reading/writing. We met some interesting swans that, bless their tiny bird hearts, would not stop staring at me.

Thanks to two kids with an RC motorized boat, I had my revenge on said Swans. Thanks dudes.

Later, Dan, Julian, Matt, Mike and I set out for McDonald's and X-Men 3, a traditional American Sunday evening. Now, I know what you're all saying, "Nick.. eating McDonald's? Did they go to London or some really messed up alternate universe and start hanging out with awesome people like Jack Bauer and Patrick Swayze?" It's true.. During the wee hours of the morning, post Dan-Agar-Extravaganza, I promised Julian I would go with him to McDonald's on Sunday evening. Actually the pact went more like this: (5:20am) "Oh my God. Oh my God I am so hungry. Dude. Julian, wake up. Dan. Let's stay up and go to McDonald's - it will be open in like 2 minutes ago, I swear. Please. I need to eat... Yea, ok, I'll go tomorrow.. I'll stay up and wait. Oh my God I can't wait.. Dan let's go to the girls' kitchen."

Anyway, my dawn ramblings must have invoked some mysterious British wizardry because the cosmos seemingly aligned as the McDonald's server accidentally gave me 3 double cheeseburgers... HELL YEA! I should have read the signs earlier on, upon stepping foot in the eatery. After entering, I detoured from my beeline to the counter, bewitched by the sight and sounds of a grand piano fit with a tuxedo clad pianist, who played awesome popular movie theme songs (such as The Godfather, James Bond, etc..).

X-Men 3 cost about 20 American Dollars (and wasn't playing for about 2 American hours), so we decided to come back to The Crofton, where I began an extremely tedious process of logging the events of the past week.. Cheers, thanks for reading :)

Saturday, May 27th 1985 - The Birth of a Legend, Daniel Agar's Story

The Big Guy. The Big Day.

The night began when I presented Dan with a 2 liter plastic bottle of Strongbow (a type of cider beer) and the instructions that he had to finish the entire bottle before we left for the Wincester. The Wincester is a pub up the street from us, and the actual name of the pub is the Gloucester Arms (if you've seen the awesome movie, Sean of the Dead, then you know what the Wincester is and will understand why I call this pub as such - because we always want to go there and it is infested with man-eating zombies).

After lots of pints and some fish & chips, we headed back to the room where it was my mission to make sure Dan would have a birthday that he'd never remember.

We headed over to an Irish pub, Kavanaugh's (yea Sapna), with a bunch of guys we've become good friends with. Outside the bouncers asked to check our IDs and then asked why there were so many Americans. The bouncer who checked my ID told me he was from Morristown, New Jersey. When I started making loud noises to acknowledge what he had just told me, the other bouncer responded by telling me, in a thick accent, to "shut the fuck up and go inside."

Inside the place was pretty much dead, save a bunch of local regulars and a two-man Irish band. It was phenomenal. We passed around a lotta Heineken and Grolsch drafts, and after hitting on two 50 year old British women, who told me they were "with the band," the girls from our floor showed up. We all had a couple rounds of shots and left to hit up a club in Piccadilly.

Da' Club was ridiculously expensive and openly sexist (discriminating against males and not letting a majority of them in), so we decided to continue our imbibing at other junctures. After walking around a lot, meeting and talking to lots of random people, and incessant mass public urination, we headed back to South Kensington (where we reside).

Most of the local pubs have last call at 11:00pm (23:00pm), and it was now 2:30am so even Kavanaugh's was closing up. We decided we would make do as true American college students - by drinking in our dormitory (which is really what it is, but I call it a "Flat" because it sounds cooler).

I got inside and realized I had lost 75% of the crowd. So I gave the birthday boy a call and he told me they were all outside The Crofton, having an "argument." It was late... we had been out all night... so I ran downstairs full of anticipation and overly eager to participate. At the door a girl told me there were a lot of loud, rowdy locals outside trying to break into The Crofton.

When I got outside I gave a few, loud "'ey.. 'ey whad-da-fuck? ey' whad-da-fuck - how you doin'?"s to the crowd of English. They immediately responded by running over to me with huge silly grins. To give a brief synopsis of where this story is going - I spent the next 2 hours hanging out with a bunch of English highschool kids who were in town for a rugby game.




Being the most immature member of our group, I immediately identified with the 17 and 18 year old drunkards - mostly because I am now, officially, the only underage, non-adult loser in my current circle of friends. So I went back to the English kids' flat, where I found Matt and our other friend Adam - the only two from the party who had gone with the highschool kids earlier when the argument originally began. Once inside, I was provided with an ice-cold Foster's and sat down and talked about lots of different things. The guys started playing "knee rugby" which was basically just crawling around on the carpet, drunk, grabbing eachother and throwin people around. It was awesome. Then they got a huge spaghetti pot and poured any type of alcoholic beverage (wine, wounded soldiers, etc..) into the pot. We then passed the pot around and, of course, Matt and I drank from it - a lot.


Dan found his way down eventually, which was good because, judging by the amount of tick marks on his forearm, he was well on his way to passing his UK equivalent of 21 American drinks. So after Dan was given a Foster's, one of my mates ran and grabbed an un-opened bottle of vodka. Julian came in and we encouraged Dan to take some shots by doing it with him. It was delicious.

After some very primal male bonding (not like R. Kelly bonding, I mean like drinking heavily, laughing, and swearing type bonding) we said it was time to get back to bed. We went outside and chilled for a bit; took some pictures, we said our goodbyes (about 5 times with each person), took some more pictures, said goodbye again, and finally left.


Happy Birthday Dan.

Freaky Friday, May 26th

Today we took a boat cruise down, and back up, the River Thames - at about 2 American miles per hour (roughly 33 dollars Canadian). The River Thames, we learned, is one of the cleanest rivers in the world, with roughly 80 differnt species of fish and an average of 65 unknown bodies and several dismembered limbs being discovered by an elite team of underwater divers assembled by the River Police, who explore the murky green depths three times a year.

Among many other sights, we chilled with Westminster Abbey and Big Ben, passed beneath London and Tower bridge, putt-putted by the "Mayor's Testicle" where the mayor's office is located, and caught a glimpse of the recently constructed English architectural accomplishment, which Londoners refer to as the "Fishnet Condom."

Dan, Julian, Matt, Mike and I walked around the city a bit more, talked to a variety of characters including a police officer who told us to check out a specific pub for a good lunch. The pub was very traditional - great people, a plethora of pints to choose from, and the most disgusting cheeseburger I've had in my entire life. I don't even want get into the grease dripping description of the burger for fear of not wanting to eat for another day and a half.

Later that night Dan and some people we met on the program came with me to meet Emma, my friend from grammar school who is studying in London also. We drank openly on the tube (regardless of the dirty looks we got doing the same thing the night before - when I found out that, although legal, exploiting the advantages of not having open container laws in London is heavily frowned upon) and went up North to Camden.

We wound up going to the craziest punk/indie rock club we will most likely ever go to. Carved out of an old theatre, the venue has a huge concert stage and opera hall, with red and gold trim walls and chandeliers. The bands were great, the people were insane (if you can imagine being in a My Chemical Romance video for 4 hours then you're spot on in picturing the scene), there were dj's all the way on the top 2 floors, separated from the main hall. Everyone seemed pretty messed up, and several people were not keen on a few "American homeboys," as one guy explained to me, desecrating the scene. Despite them, I got along with everyone else I spoke to - one huge guy walked up to me, gave me the cigarette he was smoking with a hug and a big smile. My friend Emma tried to take it from me, but the man persisted and refused to leave until I took it. So I said thank you then disposed of it when he turned around.

Tasty Bunker Thursday, May 25th

For the second day in a row, Dan, Julian, Matt and I have finished class by hitting up the grocery store and buying several whole-rotisserie chickens and sides of rice to eat for lunch. Also being the second day getting back to the j-ihm?, I was very hungry when I got back around dinner time. Luckily the girls on our floor decided to make dinner for us (what the hell were they thinking, I know).

Along with the pregame, we had the most excellent Chalupas I've had probably ever (chalupas are a mexican dish, similar to the enchilada). Then we headed out to Bunker Bier Hall, near Leicester Square. The cause for celebration was the arrival of.. well, us. BU StudentLife organized the welcoming event - and kindly made us pay 6 quid and fiddy pence to get in. With my ticket I was awarded a pint and a shot of sambuca... no, really, thank you.

At one point (there was a lot of dancing goin on) an English woman fell over. So, being the chivalrous American that I am, I picked her up. She then properly thanked me by saying, "Fuck off!" I thought, perhaps, I missed something in the translation - my English is a little rusty: "Excuse me? Dude.. I just picked you up." - me / "Fuck off!" - woman, again. I took her advice.

Upon arriving back at The Crofton, with a bit of encouragement from Matt and Dan, I regretably unleashed the eating fury. Matt, Dan, our friend Mike and I fumbled our way through the girls' kitchen until we recovered the Chalupas, rice and other eating essentials. The operation was carried out flawlessly. Despite our stealth and cunning, the girls stormed in and accused us of eating their food. The fact that I had just finished washing all the dishes we stole from the girls' kitchen and had not yet put them back may have been viewed by many as somewhat incriminating evidence... luckily we are all very charming.

In the wise words of Dan Agar: "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke."

Mobile Wednesday, May 24th

Wednesday marks the day of our first class (and the day Dan and I finally got our kickass Razr mobiles - which resemble the miniature phone Will Ferrell uses in that SNL Jeffrey's skit). My marketing class is so awesome. The professor is a very intelligent and sharp Irish professional woman who owns her own marketing company. We watched a cool video that I fell asleep during (I say it was cool because all I remember is that Arnold Schwarzenegger was featured in the video a few times).

After class we rode the bus over to Camden with Julian on his quest to find a new guitar - which he did. Along the way we used the opportunity, of course, to meet some cool new people and check out some hott spots like Trafalgar Square.


Later I checked out Club Kensington, Club K, or the j-ihm? as I prefer to refer to it as. Although its dankness level is very high, its dungeon-like qualities do not make up for its disorder or the fact that the weights are in kilograms... Ronnie Coleman would not be pleased.

During the evening Dan, Julian, our friend Matt and I made a big dinner and hung out, got some Stella, Grolsch and Heineken for the flat. Yea we are pretty cute like that.

Sporty Tuesday, May 23rd

I had a great sleep the night before - except for the ten minute interruption when I had to walk over for the second day of orientation lectures, find a comfortable seat, and fall back asleep. Meeting different people everyday, Dan, Julian, our newfound friends and basically every American in London headed over to the Sports Cafe for one-pound-pints (the currency here is the pound, it's not like the pints we were ordering weighed one pound.. I think that would be a contradiction of two different units of measure anyway).


In addition to a 2:1 American to Non-American ratio, the Sports Cafe featured other genuine novelties, such as ESPN programs and pornography playing on the televisions. All in all it was a great night. Julian made lots of new friends, and we both made a cool friend from Africa. I dance battled our African friend, and held it down for the USA.

Our First Monday, May 22nd

This morning we were woken, for the second time, by a fire drill. After sleeping through the first day of orientation lectures, and having a few ham & cheese sandwhiches, the evening slowly came. Julian went out with some people from The Crofton to check out Matisyahu, a Jewish Orthodox reggae singer, who is quite good. Both without cell phones, Dan and I decided this provided us with no other option but to go explore London the traditional way - by drinking heavily and jumping on the Tube.

After a few local pubs, we rode the T (Tube, whatever) to Piccadilly Circus, where we did, in fact, get silly.. in Piccadilly. We stumbled our way to a kareoke bar up a side street, where there were about a hundred potential future United Kingdom Idol super stars. The music, singing, and beer was great. I praised a few of the contestants and made small talk, picking out one in particular who I thought was the best.

So we continued on our merry way to another pub, where we met some more random people, with whom we chatted and they, in turn, brought us to an Irish pub, O'Neil's (go figure), which stays open 'til 3am. Dan and I were having a blast, until one of the girls that we met segueyed the conversation I was having with her in this way:
"So.. do you guys have any diseases?" - Girl
"No... and we plan on keeping it that way." - Me
Right... In addition to the bar closing soon, I thought it would be a good idea to head back at this point.

On our travels we ran into some English Blokes who were just as, perhaps even moreso, smashed as we were. We walked around Leceister Square making fun of people, having deep philosophical conversation, chattin about how one their mom's is a m.i.l.f. and that she would love to put us up for a night (wink-wink, cough-cough, say no more), and repeatedly singing the theme song to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. After (you guessed it) a few ham & cheese sandwhiches, a slice of disgusting pizza, and a slice of even more disgusting hawaiian pizza, we headed back to The Crofton.

Captain's Log: Sunday, May 21st 2006

After a long and pleasant Virgin Atlantic plane ride, which I survived by playing video games and watching several high quality films (Rize, The Matador, but unfortunately not Get Rich or Dye Tryin' because everyone I know still refuses to watch it with me) Dan, Julian and I made our way to our flat at The Crofton, 13-16 Queen's Gate, Kensington, London SW7 5EN. First order of business.. explore the local pubs.


Within the first five hours of our arrival in foggy London town, we had gone through many pints of beer, my first (of an endless variety and series) ham & cheese sandwhich, and made it apparent to everyone on our RA led walking tour that we had been drinking. On the way back from the tour, Julian and I were in such pain that we decided to go to the bathroom in the park, literally. After one last pint at Goat Tavern, we came back, fell asleep and missed a couple mandatory meetings. Disoriented and still slightly intoxicated, our RA took revenge on us by assembling a fire drill around 8:30pm.