LONDON IS CALLING AGAIN

I got a whiff of diesel fumes today and flashed back to a free 1969 concert in London’s Hyde Park with the Rolling Stones and some hippie-type girls dancing topless in the crowd. So even though the Stones were there, I can’t say I actually saw them playing.
The prevailing smell of London then was diesel fumes from all the diesel burning bumper to bumper cars and trucks snaking thru the city. After smelling these fumes from a passing semi, I spotted a travel brochure on the bulletin board at work for an eight day trip to London. Eight Days a Week, Beatle fans.
And today was rainy and foggy, a constant in London’s climate. So it was like a conspiracy of sights and smells that made me start remembering London again like it was calling from my wild single days when I was stationed in England. The trip to London today cost over $2,000 for only eight days. Back then, the Air Force flew me to England for free and gave me room and board for two years. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse, literally.
I particularly recall a rowdy New Year’s Eve when a gang of us went to Londontown by train. All aboard were celebrating New Year’s Eve early in the afternoon. When you’re young all you want to do is be around other obnoxious young people, so you can’t personally be picked out of a police line-up. “Yes officer, there were all kids out of control and looked alike.”
There were six of us and the one named Blackstock was getting a head start by knocking back the beer cans like they were handfuls of peanuts. The idea of pacing himself never really occurred to him, so he was rolling into a roaring drunk by the time we reached London’s Liverpool Street Station.
We checked into our hotel and then walked, staggered, tripped and skipped to the Rhinegold Club. By the time we hit the steep steps leading down to the basement club, Blackstock had the inspiration that he could fly. So he did, down the 30 or so steps head first, then bum first, then just falling and flailing. He landed in a sprawl at the bottom dazed and bloodied.
His chaotic entrance alerted the staff, who came to his aid. They aided him all the way back up the stairs and threw him out. In the spirit of selective friendship we denied knowing him, for fear they’d toss us out next. I went up and told him that we’d see him back at the hotel later. He might have heard me.
We went in hopeful, but didn’t do so good girl-wise, which was the only way to measure a successful night in those days. I was rejected by some Russian girls because I was a war mongering Yank, instead of just a lonely soldier far from home. The Cold War was colder than I had thought.
We soon left and walked to Piccadilly Circus. We strolled into another club, where the girls were much friendlier. In fact, they came and sat beside us, without us even asking them to and clung to us like perfume at a prom. Then they started ordering champagne, cigarettes, candy and roses from an array of waitresses. Everything cost about twenty times too much, like instant inflation had hit once stepping in off the street.
We curtailed our girls ordering, but a group of German guys beside us didn’t. I leaned over and warned them that they’d be getting a big bill if they kept it up. They drunkenly ignored me.
They spoke excellent English till the bill came. As they huddled in horror soberly staring at the list of charges in the flickering candlelight, they suddenly forgot how to speak English. The manager and some of his larger friends came to their table to explain it.
At closing time our girls invited us back to their place. Sitting in their living room it soon became apparent that they were more mercenary then moonstruck. We five adjourned to the kitchen to caucus and check our resources.
Back in the living room I mentioned that only Denny Akayama had any money. They dove on him like vultures on road kill. Disillusioned with the fickleness of their love we voted to leave. On the way back to the hotel Denny insisted that his girl really really liked him.
A day later Blackstock showed up at the hotel saying he’d been hit by a car while crossing the street and ended up in the hospital. Ah, to be young and in lust in London. I can smell the diesel fumes now.