I See London...

I woke up at oh-ugly-thirty with a bit of a hangover.  Showered, shaved, dressed, taxi to the station for the train at 6:22 AM, and...

Wrong train.  Again.  My train was 6:55.  Sh*t.  No real issue.  I could get off at Newcastle Upon Tyne, and switch there. (The 6:22 was going to Carlisle, and the 6:55 was going to Kings Cross, London.)  As it was, the train followed the coast, so for a part of the trip, I could see the North Sea.

Oh look- a castle in Newcastle

Newcastle Station

I switched at Newcastle Upon Tyne, and the rest of the trip went without an issue.  I slept a bit.

The train arrived early.  I walked to the tube station, went to the Tower Hill Stop, and walked to my hotel.  The tube stop was right across the street from the Tower of London, but I had other plans.  The hotel happily checked me in.  The Grange Tower Bridge Hotel (rm 904.)  Not only was it the cheapest hotel room on the trip, but it was also the nicest.  I unpacked a couple of things, changed my dress, then hailed a cab to Westminster (the tube station there was closed for whatever reason.)

Tube station by the Tower

View from the room

London Taxis are CLEAN

The next day was the Royal Wedding, and London was a MADHOUSE.  Traffic was unreal.  It was so busy in fact, that I ended the ride at Banquet House, as the way was blocked.  I walked the few blocks to Westminster Abbey.  I'd missed it the previous Sunday- but not today.  I waited in line for the bag check, then the line to get in, then the line to get headphones for the self guided tour.

London Wall near the Tube station

Rolling Protest

Waiting in line- that's St. Margaret's Church

What I saw was absolutely amazing.  I am a huge fan of medieval art, and there were a few crypts I wanted to see.  The self-guided tour was fantastic, and I saw everything I wanted to see.  Poets Corner was as amazing as I hoped it would be.  I stood in the presence of Dickens, Chaucer, Tennyson, and Hardy- and none of them complained!

I was awed by the one area no one could walk:  The grave of the Unknown Warrior of World War I.  The British lost 744,000 men in that war, with over 1,600,00 wounded.  (US lost 53,000.)

https://www.westminster-abbey.org/abbey-commemorations/commemorations/unknown-warrior/

That area was unusually quiet.  Legend has it that the spirit of a WWI Tommy has been seen there at times.

I spent several hours there, in awe of the art, architecture, and history, and then bought a book at the gift shop there.

Westminster Abbey, West face.  Dr. Martin Luther King Jr is among those honored in effigy

Same face, different angle

From the Abbey, I walked north on Parliament Street, looking for a place I hadn't tried yet for lunch.  Even though I really hate seafood, I decided I'd try Fish and Chips- just to say I tried it.  Besides, as my auld Scots mum always says "Hunger makes good kitchen."   I settled on the Clarence, where I settled into a comfy chair near the back, ordered a pint and the fish & chips.

Sweaty but comfortable

From my seat, I could see down the bar

Fish & Chips, writing book, bag

Well, the coating was wonderful.  The fish was fishy (ick), but the tartar sauce was amazing.  I ate all the chips, dipping them in the tartar.  Ok, so I tried it.

From there, I headed further north, to the comic store Forbidden Planet to pick up some Asimov books for my roomie and bestie, Linda.  On the way back, I called Wife, and while chatting, I went down a wrong street or three.  I ended up at Piccadilly Circus, which was bedecked in flags for the Royal wedding.  I tried using Google maps, but it kept leading me further from my goal.  My back was aching very badly, so I eventually just hailed a cab to take me back to the hotel.

Piccadilly 

I took a nap, soaked in the tub for a bit, showered, threw on my favorite dress, and trowled some makeup on my face.  I had a destination in mind, but first- food.  I stopped at Goodmans Pub near the hotel.  It had no character- shiny and corporate.  I had sausage and mash with a pint of Strongbow Dark fruit.  That was yummy.

Goodman's Pub

They made a beer for the wedding.  Seriously!

From there, I decided to walk.  Again, Google Maps failed me, but this time not as badly, as I had my first destination in sight.  And so I walked across London Bridge- and it DIDN'T fall down.

London Bridge

Sunset from London Bridge

Looking north on London Bridge

HMS Belfast and Tower Bridge, from London Bridge

From there, I walked to the George Inn.  My dear friend Jamie recommended it to me.  The George Inn dates back to at least 1543.  Shakespeare frequented this place, as did Charles Dickens, who mentioned it by name in his book Little Dorritt.  If it was good enough for them, it was good enough for me!

On the way there, a tall Englishman started hitting on me.  He said I had a "very pretty face and breasts to match."  (MY breasts- I still get a thrill from that!)  We walked a bit until I arrived at the George, where we parted ways.  I would've invited him to join me, but something about him set off my "Sophie sense" so I didn't.

The George was PACKED.  There was an outdoor beer garden, four distinct drinking rooms, as well as an upstairs.

At the George Inn

Sign and Ivy

One of Four

Beer Garden

I had a couple of pints there as I wandered the rooms and took a LOT of pictures.

Drawing my beer  (London Pale Ale)

The Sign

Upstairs from the beer garden

The "Middle Room" where Dickens drank.  

Ladies room.  Hmmm...

Sweaty Sophie Selfie in the Charles Ladies Loo

Next to another historical marker

After the pints and pictures. I caught a cab back to the hotel.  After all I had an early morning the next day.  However, I did stop at the hotel bar for a Budweiser.  No, not the American swill- the original Czech beer from which it stole the name.

Then it was off to bed.  The next morning I had to be up at 5:15.

To got to France.

Next:  Paris

Dorm Room

I never lived in a dorm at Penn State, but I did for both of my years at Drexel University.  When arrived at Penn State in August 1986, I lived in an apartment in Beaver Hill.  The year after, I lived in the fraternity house.  Every place I lived during my college years is still standing, though my second year dorm is now an administrative building.

Myers Hall, Drexel University, Sept 2018

Annex, Drexel University, Sept 2018

Many of my friends at Penn State lived in the dorms, especially my best friend Dr. Dave.  When I was at Drexel, I drove up a few times to visit him in his dorm room in Runkle Hall, which was part of "North Halls" at Penn State.  He still lived there when I eventually enrolled at PSU myself.

I visited PSU the other day, and during that visit I visited my fraternity house.  I walked around the house a bit and a thought.

The brothers living there now were creating their own stories, and had no idea what happened during my time there, nor of the brothers who lived there back then.  It was just like I had no idea what happened in the years before me.  The house was built in the late 1920s, so had seen hundreds of guys live there-some now long dead.

Hallway in the fraternity house, Sept 2018

I lived in this room, Fall '87.  Pic: Sept 2018

The same thought applies more to dorms.  The occupants of a given dorm room can change semester to semester.

For example, Runkle Hall, like most of North Halls, was built in 1959, and renovated into suites in 2007.  Most of East Halls (where most freshmen lived) were built in 1961-5.  Watts hall was built in 1923, which I think is the oldest surviving dorm on campus, followed by Irvin and Jordan Halls in 1925 and 1930 respectively.

So, each room in Runkle, between 1959-2007 would've housed 96 students.  Assuming double occupancy even during the war years when soldiers were quartered there, the rooms of Watts have seen 190 students each.  190 different stories.

And that's what I thought about- all those stories.  Each year, new residents would move into the bare rooms of cinder block construction and make them into homes.  Over that year, they create their stories; unaware of the drama, laughter, and secrets that happened in those same rooms over the years.

I think about the dorm parties I attended while I was an undergrad.  I heard the stories about how in the year or two before, kegs were allowed in dorm rooms.  I heard about the pranks they did, and the times I saw.  Who hooked up with whom where.

How many love stories began within those rooms?  How many ended?

How many died?

Do the walls hold in these emotions?  Store them?  Remember them?

https://digital.libraries.psu.edu/digital/collection/psuimages/id/2214/rec/122

None of this is anywhere in the students' minds during the excitement of move-in day.  Everything seems so fresh and new.  Never mind that your suitcase is in the exact spot where Walt puked up ouch, dinner, and so much beer.  That mattress was where Todd and Carolyn had sex dozens of times.

Everything has been scoured clean in the dorms.  Except in the memories of those who once lived there, or passed through.

I walked through the halls of my fraternity house the other day.  The floor tiles have been replaced, and the dark stained wooden walls are painted over a sickly eggshell color.  I remember who lived where those thirty years ago.  I remember the drama, the laughs, and the secrets.  The pranks.  I could tell these stories to the current occupants, if they wished to hear them.  But why would they?

After all, what's done is done, and they have their own stories to live.

Men of the Skull Chapter 25: Invitation

This is a short chapter that sets up a later chapter.  If I ever publish this, this chapter and the other one will be cut.  While "Ashley" was an important part of my PSU experience, her part was short, and the narrative flows better with her chapters removed.  In my opinion.  So there.  Nyah.

********************************************************

Chapter 25: Invitation

Friday, November 14, 1986 Reagan: Arms weren’t ransom

“Ashley invited me to dinner tonight” I told Judy as we walked back from classes.  She’d been becoming more and more sociable to me all week- almost like things were before.  Maybe- just maybe- it wasn’t all lost.  I’d have to play it juuuust right.

Right.  Like that was gonna happen.

            “Wow!  Are you going?” she asked, rather too enthusiastically.  I remembered what she said: “Anyone but Virginia.”  That was fucking burned into my mind.

            “Of course!  Free home cooked meal!”  I said.

            “You see?  I told you she liked you!” she said, smiling.

            “No.  This is repayment for me editing and typing a paper for her” I said. 

            “Are you coming over Sunday night to help me with my paper?  Virginia will be out late at Kathy’s” Judy said.

Yes, Pantera

            “Maybe.  Do I get dinner out of it?”  I said, looking over at her.

            She smiled again.  “Maybe.  It depends on what grade I get on the paper!”

            “You’re no fun!”

            “I’m lots of fun!” she said, smiling and licking her lips.  “Richard usually leaves around fiveish.  Virginia won’t be back until late.  We could work until then!” she said, smiling at me.

            I got hard. 

That smile!

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Men of the Skull Chapter 24: Reaping

Like the last chapter, this is one of the oldest chapters of the book- among the first I wrote.  That's because I wrote it within a day or three of when the events happened.  Of all the chapters, these two are the ones I'm absolutely sure of the dialogue was EXACTLY what was said.  Not that I needed prompting to remember that night- I can still see Judy's accusing eyes and her the quivering in her voice as if it happened five minutes ago.  

I wrote it down because I figured it would make a good short story someday.  Back then, I wrote short stories.  I never thought I'd write a book.  Yet I did.

So, here is the second chapter that makes me look like an asshole.  Because I WAS an asshole- I hurt one of the people who meant the world to me.  (She still does- we've managed to remain friends.  I spoken to Virginia once in 30 years.)

I visit the Nittany Lion Shrine every time I visit PSU.  I used to walk up there when I was an undergrad to think through problems.  I've cried there many times.  I was ready to die there in 2013.  (I wrote about this elsewhere.)  Every time I go there, I think of this night.


The "Hollow plastic dummy" line is a reference to an earlier chapter- in Part 1 that I never posted.

*************************************************************************

Chap 24  Reaping

Sunday, November 9, 1986 Weapon deal tied to hijack

            The sun burned my eyes when I woke up, head throbbing.  I could hear the TV in the living room- football was on.  Bills- Steelers.  It seemed so loud. 

            I fell out of bed, staggered to my feet and limped to the bathroom.  I slept in my clothes, which smelled like puke, beer, and smoke.  Soon I was in the shower, trying not to think.  Thinking hurt- not just because of the hangover.

            What did I do last night?  And why?

            Should I tell Judy?

            Fuck.

            After I dressed, I joined Mark in the living room. 

            “Someone named Cheryl called while you were in the shower.  She left a number.  You look like shit.”

            “When did you get back?”

            “Hour or two ago.  There was no traffic.”

            “How’s Crystal?”

            “Fine.  She’s coming down next week.”

           

            I called Cheryl and we met at the Burger King on College Ave at 2:30.  She was still dressed in last night’s oxford.  We sat on the second floor, at a table for two overlooking the doors.

            “So did you enjoy the party?”  I asked.

            “It was great!”  she smiled wearily.

            “Where did you disappear to?”

            “We went back to his place.  He was sweet- very gentle” she said with a far away look in her eyes.  So this guy laid her while I couldn’t.  Dammit.

            “How was your night?” she asked, eyes focusing back to me.

            “I think I really fucked up.”

            “What happened?”

            “I got really drunk, and, um, kinda had sex with Virginia.”

            “Kinda or Did?”

            “Did.” 

            “You stud!” she smiled. 

            “But then there’s Judy.”

            “Look, you had sex with Virginia- you’re not married to her.  Just don’t tell Judy.”

            “Virginia will tell her.  And I want to tell her first.”

            As if on cue, Judy and her brother walked into the restaurant.  Of all the fucking dumb luck.  Michael looked up, saw us and waved.  Judy stared.

            “Don’t tell her now.  Wait until her brother leaves.”

            “I figured that.  He doesn’t know about us.”

            “You really don’t have to do this.  You owe her nothing.  After all, she sleeps with her boyfriend every weekend.”

            Cheryl was right, and I knew it.  But I felt differently.

            “I have to tell her.  It’s the right thing to do.”

            “You’re only going to mess things up!” she said, touching my hand.

            I looked at her.  If I’d only stayed with Cheryl last night…

            “I already have.”

            A few minutes later, Judy and her brother came upstairs and sat at the table next to ours. 

            “What a coincidence!”  Michael said.  “We thought you’d both be eating someplace fancier.”

            Cheryl laughed.  “Not when I’m buying we aren’t!”

            We all laughed- a little forced.

            “We have to go.  Cheryl has a long ride ahead of her.”  I said, standing up.

            “It was really good meeting you!”  Judy smiled.

            As we left, I leaned over to Judy’s ear.  “We have to talk.”

            She looked at me with dead eyes.  She already knew.

Cheryl didn’t stick around long.  A quick shower, change of clothes, and she was on the road back to Millersville.  Now all I had to do was wait for a call from Judy.  She would always call after whoever (usually Richard) left.  So I waited.  And watched football.  And did homework.

            Sometime during the afternoon, the sky grew blue-grey and heavy, and the snow started drifting lazily to the ground.  By nightfall, the snow fell steadily and with purpose.

            Then Eagles just finished losing to the Giants 17-14 when the phone woke me up.  I’d fallen asleep with my head on my open statistics book.

Judy.

            “So.”  Her voice was flat- toneless.

            “Yeah.  Can we talk?”

            “Do you want to?”

            “Yeah.  We have to.”

            “Why?”  No inflection.  Cold.

            “We just do.  Can I come over?”

            “Sure, if you want.  It’s snowing.”

            “It is?  Oh yeah.  I’ll be right over.”

            “Whatever.”

            “Bye.”

            “Bye.”

            All of Happy Valley was muffled with the snowy silence as I walked down to Sutton Court.  I puzzled over scenarios in my brain.  What to say.  What to do.  How do I play it?

            The night was so very cold, and the wind blew the snow in my face.

            An age later, I knocked on the apartment door.  My blue jacket and tan knit hat were covered with white.

            “Who is it?” sang Virginia.

            “Me!”

            “Come on in, Me!”

            I walked in.  Shit.  I hadn’t thought about facing Virginia.

            “Hi!” she chirped.  She was lying on the living room floor, listening to Tom Petty and doing homework.

"Then he said, you better watch your step, Or your gonna get hurt yoo-seff” Tom cautioned.

“Hi” I replied, trying to act casual.  I hadn’t mastered that skill yet.  I still haven’t.

Judy came out of the bedroom with her coat on.  Her face was expressionless and cold.  Her eyes showed no spark.

“Do you want to walk?” she asked glumly.

“Sure!”

“We’ll be right back” she grumbled at Virginia, without looking at her.

“Ok!”  She was unusually cheerful.

We walked for a while at a brisk pace: not speaking, hands in pockets, listening to the snow whisper to the ground.  After a few blocks, we were crossing College Avenue and heading up into campus. Judy ended the silence.

            “You wanted to talk?” she asked brusquely.

            “Yeah.  This isn’t easy.”

            “What isn’t?”  Her tone was flat.  Dull.  Dead. Cold.

            Deep breath.  “I hooked up with Virginia last night.  We were both really drunk, and, umm…”

            “So?” She kept staring straight ahead.

            “Well, I wanted to tell you myself.  No lies.”

            “Why?  It’s none off my business.”

            “Well… because of… well, the way things are.

            Silence.

            “Because I… I care.”

            "If you cared, then how could you do that?  With her of all people!”  Judy stopped and screamed at me, tears running down her cheeks.  “Anyone else, Lance, anyone!  I wouldn’t have known and I wouldn’t have cared!  But Virginia!  Virginia!”

            Her lip quivered.  Eyes full of pain.  Then she stiffened, and glared straight into my eye. 

            “I don’t think I could ever make love to you.”  Her voice was husky, barely controlled.

            She would’ve been more merciful if she shot me.

            The snow fell in the miles between us.  She turned and kept walking.  I followed, not knowing what else to do.

            “Did she tell you?”  I asked, almost whispering.

            “No.  Michael did.  He was sleeping on the couch.  You woke him up when you came in.  He heard everything, and then he saw Virginia walk to the bathroom naked.  This morning he said ‘I guess Virginia really likes Lance’, and he told me what happened.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “For what?”

            “Everything.”

            We continued uphill through campus, not really caring where we were going.  The snow fell heavier, the hoard of flakes hissing as they struck the ground.  We silently passed Pattee library when I finally grew a backbone.

            “Well, I put up with you sleeping with Rich most weekends.  I think you can forgive me one drunken mistake.  I mean- who are you to judge?”  My raised voice seemed flattened by the weight of the weather.  God was giving us our privacy.

            “What Richard and I do…” she glared.

            “What?”

            Softened.  “Nothing.  You don’t understand.”

            “Try me.”

            Her whole body heaved in a sigh and she stopped to face me.  “You knew about Rich from the beginning.  You accepted that part and told me you could live with it.  Virginia was…was…”

            “You’re still cheating on him.”

            “That’s my business.  Would you rather I didn’t?”  Her eyes tore through me.

            We looked at each other for a moment.  She knew the answer as well as I did.  No.  I wanted this.  I wanted this desperately.  I wanted her desperately.

            She turned and kept walking, and I with her.

            We walked to the Lion, which was covered with two inches of snow.

            “So now what?”  I asked.

            “I don’t know.  Are you going to start dating Virginia?”

            “No!  No.  I need to talk to her too.  Oh God!  How…?”  I leaned against the shrine.  Cold limestone.

            Judy stared down snow covered Burrows Rd- and its long slope to College Avenue.  The street lights were ghostly pointillist orbs.           

            “I’ve really enjoyed what we’ve shared.  I don’t want to lose that.  I don’t want to lose you.” My voice cracked.  Slightly.

            She looked back at me, tears flowing freely down her face.

            “I don’t know.”  She started to break down.  I reached out to hold her. She pushed me away and slapped me hard across the face.

            “Virginia!  Of all people!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.  Then she started sobbing.

            I tried to hold her again, and this time she didn’t resist.  I held her close as she cried cried cried into my chest. 

            The snow fell all around us.  She cried.  I wanted to keep her warm- to say the right thing.  Anything.  Nothing.

            Behind us the Lion crouched, silently watching.  Cold Stone.  Like us.

            Eventually, Judy pulled away and looked down the street. 

            “I’m freezing,” she whispered.

            “Let’s go back to my place.”

            “No.  I’m going home.”

            We left the brightly lit Lion behind us in its curtain of white. 

https://onwardstate.com/2016/01/26/lion-shrine-mania-our-favorite-shrine-pictures/

            After a year or so of silently walking through campus through town, we arrived at their apartment.  Virginia was still on the tan carpeted floor doing homework, but now the TV was on behind her, quietly tuned to MTV.  Joe Elliot of Def Leppard was on stage singing something to a beautiful blond teenage girl in the worshipping audience.  Judy went directly to the bedroom, and I stood in the foyer next to the kitchen.

            “You look like a snowman!”  Virginia said smiling, looking over.

            “Yeah.  It’s snowing,” I replied, brushing myself off.

            “No shit!  I hadn’t noticed!”

            "Can I talk to you, umm…in the kitchen?”

            “Sure!” she said with a confused look on her face.

            She popped up and adjusted her top.  She was wearing her maroon letter sweatshirt and her favorite skintight jeans.

            We stepped into the darkened kitchen: the “scene of the crime.”  Less than twenty four hours earlier, we writhed passionately in that same spot.  Now I looked into her eyes, which for the first time seemed light and clear.  Of course, I didn’t know why.  Maybe because I didn’t care.

            “Um… about last night.  I don’t, I can’t I…”

            “Spit it out!  I won’t bite! Hard, anyway.”

            “I…I don’t want to seem like a typical fraternity pig or anything, but I’m not ready for any relationship right now.  I’m still hurting from Julianne.”

            “I figured,” she said cheerfully.

            “So, it’s cool?”

            “Sure!  No problem!  Is that it?”

            “Well… yeah.”

            “Ok.  By the way, what makes you think I wanted a relationship?”

            I looked at her for a moment, and then shrugged.  “I just… I don’t know.”

            “Ok.”  She went back into the living room and plopped back down to the floor and her homework, leaving me standing alone in the dark kitchen, snow melting off my jacket.  After a minute, I quietly left and trudged slowly through the snow back to the apartment, trying to ignore the quiet sucking sound that seemed to emanate from my chest.  I was hollow.  Plastic.  Dummy.

            The snow didn’t stop, and it was cold.

            When did it get so fucking cold?

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