Hello readers. I have something very important to tell you.
Now that that’s done, allow me to impart to you the details of how I arrived at the majestic wonderland that was the Black Keys concert.
It all started on a little thing called the overnight bus. Now if you are of the American persuasion I know what you’re thinking: “But Ashley, is not the bus station a place for crack dealings? Why doth would you choose to traverse in this manner?” WELL FEAR NOT DEAR FRIENDS — the Scottish public transportation system is a lot less um … rapey.
So Katie, Gina, and I climbed on board the sleeper bus and into our cots — I on the top, Katie in the middle, and Gina on the bottom. Soon after, I felt the sweet combination of claustrophobia/carsickness reaching new heights as I tried for a few hours to fall asleep. Six hours into our journey I did, and then two hours later it was time to get up.
After arriving in merry ol’ London at the not-so-merry hour of 7 am, we took a taxi to our
shithole hostel, checked in to our four-bed room (YES), and passed out. When we woke up we had a new roommate from Australia — a nice man named Blake. Blake didn’t come back that night. So we’re not sure what happened to Blake. But here are some pictures Gina took of Katie and I in the hostel:
And yes, I am wearing 15 layers of clothes. What’s the story behind that? Well, the heater went out in our room and seeing as a few days prior Russia had seen fit to straight up blow a winter storm at continental Europe and the UK, it was cold as f**k. Like seriously, it was getting so bad that to keep our minds off of how cold we were we started coming up with movie ideas. One that I’m particularly proud of was, “Hostel 3: Three Americans Chicks Kill Everyone in Hostel After Suffering Hallucinations Brought on by Stage Five Hypothermia.” If anyone steals that idea I swear to God. Anyways, here are more pictures from our hostel:
The little heater that couldn't
After that, seeing as we had a few hours till the concert, we decided to walk around town. We walked through Hyde Park and um … past Hyde Park and saw this stuff:
You don't want to see her when she's angry ... or giving a snowman a hand-job.
The SAY WHATTTT horse
Where we went for lunch times.
Planning our next moves
And then it was time for the most amazing concert of all time. I mean, they had a crepe stand for crap’s sake (I was going to say “for crepes sake” but I figured we’d lose like half our followers so I didn’t). It was at Alexandra Palace, which according to our cabbie was where they housed German prisoners of war in WWII … so that’s nice. Long story short it was just … it was just. Also, I took over 300 pictures that night. Oops. Here are some of them:
The opening band (amazing)
THE BLACK KEYS
Patrick Carney, the love of my life
After that we waited in the taxi line for an hour. It’s also important to note that it was blizzarding. After we made it back to the hostel, we climbed into our frozen, disease-laden sheets and passed the eff out.
The next two days were spent wandering around London. We went to Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, Parliament (where I almost go stiff-armed by a guard who thought I was trying to sneak into the not-public entrance … which I totally wasn’t), Westminster Abbey, the Tower of London, and The Globe Theatre (except the real Globe burned down in 1613 and they have since built a bridge over where it used to be. So they built a replica not too long ago in a different place. So we just toured a building of lies … for £10). Here are the pictures from those two days:
He was asking for it.
Gina at the Palace
Winston Churchill and Parliament
Someone we did not expect to see
Gina ruining mah landscapes part 1
Gina ruining mah landscapes part 2
Author's photo part 2
View from the Tower of London
Someone else who was asking for it — this time in the Globe
The Globe of lies
I'm going to be honest, I still ate it.
And then it was time to bid London a-dude and go back to home, sweet Glasgow. Except our bus ended up getting diverted off the freeway due to construction and we ended up taking a completely unnecessary three-hour tour (yes haha Gilligan jokes) of the English countryside. So our 8-hour car ride turned into 11. But whatever, we’re back. And I’ve missed you. Kind of. No I have.
Now it's back to reading Gertrude Stein. Until next time dear friends,