I was finally able to make it across town to take a tour of Westminster Abbey. Unfortunately you’re not allowed to take pictures why you’re in there; something about a whole bunch of dead people being buried there. Settle down England.
It truly was a breathtaking place to visit. Amazing buttresses, columns, golden ornamental stuff and elaborate marble structures. But you can’t see any of that because of the dead people. Lame. I was able to snap one picture of the cloister. Don’t ask me what a cloister is.
All of the English monarchs are buried there. The One Who Killed French People, the One Who Killed His Wives, the One Who Murdered Her Cousin and the One Who Pretended To Be Really Pious But Actually Probably Got Laid A Fair Amount among others.
There are some pretty famous literary figures buried or commemorated there as well so I got to hang out with them which was nice. Samuel Johnson, Keats, Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, William Blake, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, One of the Shelleys, Dylan Thomas and Gerard Manly Hopkins were all buried or commemorated there. The Bronte sisters were also honored there as well for, of course, writing those books that dealt with feelings and complicated white women in the Victorian age. This is in contrast to Jane Austen wrote about rich, white women with feelings during the Victorian Age. Rudyard Kipling, notorious racist imperialist douche, is honored at Westminster Abbey as well. He was most famous for writing The White Man’s Burden which is a detailed narrative about white men trying to look cool at clubs even though they can’t dance well. Truly moving stuff. Keep biting that bottom lip Mr. Kipling. Ass.
Just as a side note, I need to give a brief shout out to people who are actors, film commercials or do anything with a camera where you’re not supposed to look at it directly and succeed. I was approached by two young British people working for a company that plays all the local soccer matches on the radio. So they asked me to have headphones in my “mobile phone” (dorks), walk about eight paces and then scream, “YEAH!!!!” as if there were a goal. This is notable because there is a goal about twice a year in soccer so naturally spectators are pretty thrilled. This also helps them wake up.
With this very simple plan, I managed to screw it up by looking at the camera five times in a row. I mean I did it even when I was trying my absolute hardest not to. I was doing the shifty-eyed thing where I looked at the camera with my peripheral vision. I might still be blushing. What is more embarrassing is that they were doing this on a busy street so not only could several hundred people see me do this commercial and scream, “YEAH!!!” just once, but they saw me screw this thing up five times in a row before actually getting it right.
By the time it was all finished they looked at me like I was Special. I don’t mean special the way my mom says it on Christmas morning or when I graduated from college. I mean Special like the kid who ate glue in elementary school. You always caught him because you sure as shit didn’t need that much adhesive to make a snow man out of construction paper (which my mom still has hanging up in her office). Why should he?
In any case, it was a thoroughly humbling experience that made me appreciate people who a) do that kind of thing for a living and b) don’t manage to throw up on themselves every time they do it.
Also, Westminster Abbey was pretty Special. I mean special.