I survived Gloria Gaynor*-style
After meeting a Carribbean woman wearing a pink cowboy hat with sequins, dodging a certainly unfortunate ride on the back of a motorcycle, a drug dealer, and several ‘dodgy’ men, I stepped onto the Bakerloo platform at Willesden Junction. This means that I did not get fatally shot.
I actually didn’t get shot at all. And because I wore my bullet proof vest, I deflected any and all flesh wounds as well.
Soon, I will stop wearing this stab vest- I mean bullet proof- I mean both. And then I will have street cred. Like when I go on a drug raid or dog raid with the police in the coming weeks. This is like a journalistic ‘COPS’ experience. Also, there will be dogs, which I love.
Things I have learned:
-I am extremely optimistic: a drug bust turns into playing with cute puppies.
Answers I still seek:
-How did I convince my boss to let me leave three hours early tomorrow if I promised to review a Jackson Pollock-Edward Hopper exhibition?^
Goot nacht,
Lindsey
*I mention Gloria Gaynor because of the discotheque connection.
^I actually know why this is. Much like I can’t explain why Britain still has a monarchy, they can’t explain the American Jackson Pollock or the American Hopper. So they pawned it off on me, the real McCoy, so I can either fall on my face or bring them a truly inspired American piece.#
#Heck if I care, I get to leave work early and go see art for free. Duped those silly English twats again! (If you are keeping score, that is Lindsey: 2, London: 184739. I’m catching up.)
