Oxford: Days 9-10
Returning to tales from last week:
Friday I worked, literally, the entire day.
Saturday brought about ten of us back to London. My four-person contingent including Jake Keenan, Matteo, Shelley, and myself wanted to attend a London-wide festival called “The Big Dance” to cut a few rugs.
The trip started out well enough. We visited a few shops in the fashion district, like H&M and a football merchandise outlet. I even bought a cheap pair of sunglasses and a small, grey fedora that went well with my NYPD shirt to make me look like a cop. We then got some lunch at Pizza Express near Trafalgar Square and were ready to let loose.
We arrive at the Square to see gates going up, blocking our path to the main dancing area. A staffer says we just missed the dance. We’re a bit bummed, but we know The Big Dance is city-wide, all day, so we ask when Trafalgar will open again. He says to come back at 5:45 for “dirty dancing.”
Sounded good to us!
We consulted a festival guide to see the best spots to dance in the meantime. A place in Islington advertised a hip-hop gathering and so off we went. The area was nice, with small shops, organic produce, and a rows of tables littered with antiques. I considered it mostly rubbish, but to each their own.
We finally make it to the address listed in the guide and expect a sweet hip-hop dance party. Instead, it’s another antique dealer, who tells us to backtrack to the dance party’s new location. We are, once again, dumbstruck when we find that the place that scheduled the dance party backed out at the last minute.
Awesome.
So we hop back in the tubes, grab some coffee, and AGAIN make it back to Trafalgar Square, this time on-time and ready to bust a move. We see a queue form and get in the back but notice a curious development: everyone inside the gates is carrying pink pillows and sitting down in front of a large screen. A very helpful event organizer then informs us there is no “dirty dancing,” getting crunk or grinding of any kind because they’re showing—ready?—the MOVIE, Dirty Dancing.
I was slightly sickened at this juncture, hating said movie, and having walked the streets of London all day not having accomplished our goal. We then stomped on the deceitful program, as you see above. In retrospect, it was fun, but like most St. Bonaventure athletic endeavors, a trip to the “big dance” was ultimately futile.
More pictures on Facebook. And more retrospective travelogue soon.
