A Day in The Big Smoke

We arrived at Heathrow Airport around 09:30. (I'm using military time from now on, since that's the thing to do here.) After going through a half-full customs line and a surprisingly quick rate and picking up the 20kg (45lb) duffel bag with almost everything Jacob and I would ever need and walking quite awkwardly with it for a half mile, envy in my eye for Jacob's easy-to-carry backpack-like suitcase of clothes while I truly, heartily wish I had instead used that big-ass blue ~190 liter rolling suitcase that, for whatever reason, we own, and after getting lost several times looking for the bike shop in the ambiguous address of "The Vaults," we eventually happen upon this bike rental place from which my mother so graciously ordered two hybrid multi-gear bikes:

[Please ignore the singer/guitarist. They were there for a wedding or something.]

After entering the shop, we were quickly stopped by a mustachioed man who we later learned is the floor manager. After he (indirectly) told us he knew nothing about our reservation, another employee came from the back of the shop, who brought us to a much more helpful employee than the two prior combined.

This man was about 6' tall and skinny, but in a toned way. He had a little hair on the top of his head, and some stubble indicated he hadn't shaved for at least 3 days (not that I'm any better). He walked with a hobble and typed just as awkwardly, due to a sprained ankle and wrist. Since neither Jacob nor I can remember him giving his name, I'll call him Joe.  

Anyway, Joe was more than helpful in that he actually looked for and, surprise surprise, found the reservation my mom made. As we say at passover, דַּיֵּנוּ (Dayenu)(it would have been enough. But then he agreed to hold our stuff for the 8 days we're gone (דַּיֵּנוּ). And then he let us use their shop space to reorganize our bags and panniers (דַּיֵּנוּ). Then he sold us bungee chords to secure a pannier that was missing a stabilizing piece and an extra bike inner tube, and agreed that, if we brought them back intact (and not on the bike), he'd refund them (דַּיֵּנוּ). And then he let us use his bathroom to change, thus getting rid of our useless-for-biking travel clothes (דַּיֵּנוּ). And then, when we smelled the smoke from the barbecued bride outside and the fire alarms went off as a result, he made sure that we were alright and situated (דַּיֵּנוּ). And finally, as we went out to get a 13:30 lunch, he let us leave our packed bikes at the shop. 

Joe had his rants as well, though. He said that, in America, it's all about customer service (i.e. being super-duper nice to the customer, yet afraid of him because he might be maliciously carrying a gun), whereas in England, it's all about "the customer is always right," which apparently means the employee can be rude, but the customer still gets what he wants. The best one was, when we asked where to go to lunch, Jacob said, "is the place next door alright?" to which Joe responded, "Oh, no. They are so mean there. Just last week, I was walking through, carrying a couple bikes, and I said, 'watch yourselves there, mates!' but they ignored me, bumped into me, and made me twist my hand and ran the bike over my foot giving me this here sprained ankle [the same one mentioned above]. As you'd imagine, I was in a fit, but then the waitresses were yelling at me to calm down, that I was disturbing their customers (a ridiculous claim for the situation, right?). But here I am, thinking that their food is way overpriced but not that great, but they can get away with it because this is a heavy tourism area for the market, and our customers probably walk out of our shop hungry and head straight over to you for food, and now your telling me that I am detrimental to your business?! [PREACH!]" 

We got Moroccan food. 

In any case, we left "On Your Bike" happily with bicycles and panniers, and after missing a few turns arrived at our hostel, called the Generator. 

The Generator seems like it should really be a club: the name, the fact that there's semi-heavy security, the music and socializing that goes 'til "late" (which I will not utilize). It has a very pop-culture-themed, um, theme, as shown by its floor, um, themes:

For those of you with small screens, the floor numbers are: 0-Wonderland; 1-[Austin] Powers; 2- [James] Bond; 3-[Mary] Poppins; 4-Dr. Who; 5-Willy Wonka; 6-Ali G.

While I am a Whovian (a fan of Dr. Who) and enjoy the show, I have to say I wish I were on floor 5. I just have too many good memories with Roald Dahl.  In the end, I just have one thing to say: I will forgo my admittance to Brown and instead go to this university:

It seems like a fine one.