I left my contact and my heart in England

I left my contact and my heart in England,
originally uploaded by beckybumblefuck.

Yes, can you believe it? In the UK a mere 24 hours and I flushed it,

leaving me half-blind. I had them long enough to clearly view the

well-dressed black woman squatting at the rear bumper of his car (30

minutes in the country) and the hail that came down another 5 hours

later, but from there it was a blur. It caused some funny situations.

On day 2 I was hit on in a pub, by being asked "Are you OK?" by a

little cluster of British boys. After taking a second to assure them

that I was, I immediately walked myself into a mirror. From there I

was left to grope the wall in search of a way to open the girl's room

door that had been engineered to be inconspicuous, and lay flush with

the wall. I heard a ripple of laughter behind me as I fumbled around.

This was not the only instance of toilet mishap. I walked up close to

many bathrooms, squinting, trying to discern the writing, throughout

the entire journey through London, Oxford and Bath. Following a lunch

of fish and chips at Oxford's self-proclaimed best-pub, I headed off

in the direction of the bathroom, to find that it was the boy's room.

Furthermore, the girl's had been located directly across from my

seat, less than 10 feet away. The older gentleman watching the

situation, remarked that I may not want to go into the gent's although

it may pleasantly surprise someone�.



He was a complete sweetheart about the situation. He drove on the

wrong side of the road (in my estimation *wink*), navigating to new

places by himself, all the while saying, "look how quickly we found

our [insert destination here]!" He'd always explain our routes and

finish off with a "Does that sound good?" , to which I'd nod my blind

head and play along with the game; the game being that I was

contributing anything at all to the travel process, to deserve any bit

of consideration while decrypting our routes or any fraction of the

praise for successful arrival. What I *did* deserve was blame for the

bathroom that I so clumsily flooded and for forgetting my raincoat,

leading my sweet to become drenched on several occasions while I wore

his parka (What a git aye? Neglecting to pack the raincoat on her

trip to *England*, for god's sake.). He would gently tease me about it

all, ask me if I was doing OK, and then lead me to the next

destination that my heart desired. We traveled that way through

England for 5 days, hand-in-hand and oblivious to the world.



And now I've returned to America, to my girl, to my medical writing,

left to ache and pine and lust for more wanderings through a place

3000 miles away with the boy who's claimed my heart.