{"id":13308,"date":"2018-10-20T01:13:49","date_gmt":"2018-10-20T08:13:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/godammit.com\/?p=13308"},"modified":"2018-10-20T01:13:49","modified_gmt":"2018-10-20T08:13:49","slug":"london-the-horror","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/godammit.com\/london-the-horror\/","title":{"rendered":"London, the Horror."},"content":{"rendered":"

I went to London with the expectation of enjoying the usual pleasures of travel, only to find that the horror follows me wherever I go.<\/p>\n

After a few days of feeling like I was coming down with a cold, I was unable to get out of bed. I coughed all night and day, watched BBC TV, and finally hurt my back in a stupid move to hide from the room service guy when my sister opened the door without warning me.<\/p>\n

Crippled, feverish, coughing my head off, I was determined to catch my flight home, where I was diagnosed with pneumonia.<\/p>\n

I’m not saying it was all bad. Not at all. It was amazing to be back in London, where I lived as a teenager with no parents to curb my waywardness. What a time! Hashish and Mandrax<\/a> all night, reading all day, I formed my adult sensibility there with the help of some arty<\/a> college students who took me in.<\/p>\n

It was amazing, but so different from the London of 1969. It is ridiculously crowded, and people don’t mind smashing into you if you don’t walk fast enough. The streets are full of beautiful immigrants and native Londoners who give you conflicting directions when you ask which way to Spidalfields Market.<\/p>\n

I managed to go to the National Gallery, the British Museum, Harrods, Camden Passage<\/a>, and to meet a couple of dear blogging<\/a> friends<\/a> who I’ve loved from afar since forever. I flirted with a hot street performer who passed under a flaming limbo stick. I ate a bunch of scones and learned to effect an all-new, obnoxious English accent.<\/p>\n

$\"London,$ <\/a><\/p>\n

But what I’ll remember most is the horror of being sick, in agony, worried about bursting my eardrums on the flight home and counting each hour while mentally repeating, I can’t go on, I’ll go on.<\/p>\n

I came back on October 8th and I’m still pretty screwed up. Now that I’m almost done with coughing, I can really appreciate the pain in my back whenever I move or don’t move.<\/p>\n

What about you guys? Anything?<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"