On Wednesday, we went to Birmingham for our class day trip. It was better when we did it alone.
The last time I was in Birmingham, we encountered cancelled Olympic shows, a lack of food and ran into cocaine. However, we also found my future husband. He’s a British bartender. He’s a hipster. I love him. Chelsea and I made it our goal to try and find him during our visit.
It rains a lot here. Like, a lot. The weatherman literally predicted 100 straight days of rain in his forecast the other night. So, on Wednesday morning, it was pretty typical that it was raining. During this torrential rainstorm, we’re on our bus to Birmingham. When we stopped, we figured that we had arrived at our destination and it was time to start our day.
We had not arrived.
Our guide, whom Anna described as “the type of grandma who would burn cookies,” made the bus driver drop us off 25 minutes away from our destination. In the pouring rain.
It became pretty apparent at that moment that I was not going to find my husband.
Maybe if it wasn’t raining so hard, walking would have been pretty cool. I don’t know, it’s possible. But, it was raining and we were all wet and in a bad mood and semi-terrified that we were going to get killed at the sketchy various “fresh” fruit stands along our walk.
So, we walk. And, walk. And, walk. And, 25 minutes later, we see the bus. It’s waiting outside a gigantic building. We stare at the building. We get back in the bus.
After that experience, we went to a jewelry museum, which was actually really cool. It’s set up the exact same way it was when the business started and our guide took us through the entire process of making one piece of jewelry. It was pretty incredible to watch. Also, he gave us little gold dogs that he made for us to remember our visit. It was really sweet and basically made up for the previous rain trek.
By this time, it’s 11:30. The bus drops us off in the center of Birmingham and our guide tells to meet back for lunch at 2:15. That is a long time. We are hungry. Our group goes to a little cafe called EAT that Ryan once told me was a hotel and I believed him because I’m dumb. But, anyway, it was really cute and our food was really good.
We spent the next couple hours just walking around and looking at sights as well as doing some casual shopping. Chelsea and I walked into a store that we thought was the British equivalent of American Eagle. We decided we were wrong when I wanted to try on a dress and the price tag was 400 pounds. We definitely decided we were wrong when Chelsea asked the saleswoman where there sale rack was and she replied that they didn’t have one.
Then, someone spotted an Urban. I reacted the same way I do every time I come within 100 yards of an Urban Outfitters — immediately have a panic attack. Seriously. I freak out every single time I go into that store. I can’t explain it. I touch every item. Literally, every item. And, then I cry a little on the inside (and sometimes, on the outside) about how I can’t afford anything and how I’m not a real hipster. It’s a very draining experience for everyone involved.
By the time I finished touching all the shoes, it was 2:15, time for (second) lunch. There are so many amazing places to eat in Birmingham. It’s a great city and there’s delicious food on every block.
So, of course, they drove us out to a very sketchy neighborhood for an Indian buffet. They did not have ice cream and their floor was stickier than a bar’s. Dan described the chicken as “looking like Satan’s anus.” This is not the happiest moment of my life.
I forgot to mention that this particular Wednesday just happens to be what is perhaps the greatest American holiday: the Fourth of July. This is an awkward holiday to be in Britain for. Boogey rented us out his bar for the night, so it was just our group celebrating. Now that I’m thinking about it, he probably did this so none of us got punched during our many chants of ”USA! USA!” We were basically just the most patriotic, obnoxious Americans you could imagine. It was awesome. We were all decked out in red, white and blue. We did an America Power Hour. We sung the “Star-Spangled Banner” for the entire half hour walk to the bar (we did this loudly). Colleen and Ryan bought everyone KFC. So much fried chicken. So much America. Apparently, I loved the rolls so much that I took four (I found them crumbled in my purse the next morning). Ryan set off fireworks in the parking lot. We got a noise complaint and were egged for being too American. Dan reenacted the Gettysburg Address. We laughed. We cried. We had a really, really, really good time.
No one showed up for Thursday morning breakfast. God bless America.