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May 15, 2003
Molto Bene!
Last night there was supposed to be a gathering for Wi-Fi geeks (wireless internet) at a place in the city called "The Media Club". After work, I wasn't feeling all that sprightly but I decided I'd pop along, have a pint and try and give my social life a bit of a kick.
So, I caught a bus down to Harrow Station. One of the street vendors were selling cheap fruit so I bought 4 punnets of mushy strawberries that were very tasty, but incredibly messy. After eating half a dozen, my hands looked like I'd killed somebody. Covered in red! The poor guy sitting opposite me was trying not to look, but I could tell that he was shocked and dismayed by the spastic covered in strawberry juice!
Got to "Great Portland Street" station rather quickly, and set about familiarising myself with the area. I had backpacked around there earlier in the year, so I knew some of the streets already. Well… I knew one of the streets. The one that I was standing on.
So, with my backpack on my shoulders and a spring in my step I wandered forth in search of the mythical Geek Gathering. I grabbed my map and stepped into the unknown.
30 minutes later, the spring had left my step and my shoulders were aching. I needed to find some likely local and ask for directions. It wasn’t admitting defeat, but I felt defeated anyway.
I walked up to a dude who was sweeping the footpath (obviously a local).
“Hi! Could you tell me where the Media Club is?”
He replied with a thick Italian accent. “Pardon?”
Me: “Media Club?”
Accent: “No. I know not Media Club. Where is he?”
Me: “That’s what I just asked you!”
Mr Accent shrugged.
“Ask Mario. Over there!”
He pointed toward a small, exclusive looking Italian restaurant. It had the candles, the sound of violins and the smell of garlic and wine. I wasn’t really sure if I should ask Mario. It looked like a scene from the Godfather. I could just imagine a Mobster sitting back in his seat, cigar in hand telling ‘Tony’ to ‘rub me out’.
Mario. What an Italian sounding name.
I figured, ah fuckit. I was getting anxious about getting to the Geek Gathering on time. If I died in the process, well… I’d be dead. No point in worrying about it then.
I entered the Italian restaurant with no small amount of trepidation. I noted where all of the exits were.
“Um. Hi. Uh, could you tell me where the, um, Media Club is?” I stammered.
The weathered looking face crinkled, as if trying to work out life’s mysteries. He stroked his chin, and scratched his faded white hair. If this was Mario, he looked more like a teddy bear than a gangster.
“No. I don’t know where this club is. Katie! Louisa!”
Two waitresses came over, more due to the fact that there was a strange looking Australian in their midst. They surrounded me, smiling and speaking Italian. They spoke more with their hands than anything, and I was in danger of being wiped out by a random “turn left” than any violin-case toting mobster.
They came to the final conclusion that they couldn’t help me.
“I don’t want to tell you something wrong, you know what I mean?” I nodded. “Sorry and good luck, eh!”
So, armed with the knowledge of… well, nothing, I ventured back into the street. I waved at the footpath sweeping Mr Accent and pulled out my map once more.
15 minutes later, I discovered the “Media Center”. By all appearances, it was a front for journalists and reporters. BBC Central. GMTV. Not exactly the place where Geeks would meet for a quiet pint or two, while discussing Wi-Fi. My shoulders drooped even lower. I ripped up my damn map.
I’d been sent to the wrong Media. So, somewhere in this city of 20 million people, there was a small “Media Club” now filled with Geeks. Geeks who were chatting about geeky things. They were where I wanted to be and there was no hope in hell finding it without some form of divine intervention.
So, I gave up plan A, and tried to think of a plan B.
I started pacing. I felt stupid and a little lost. So, I rang my family in Wales.
“Hey… you’ll never guess what happened….”
They laughed. I laughed. Everything seemed less disastrous and just a little bit funny. I then decided to go and visit Mario again. Mario and the awesome smelling Italian restaurant. Mario of the white hair and crinkled smile.
So I did.
The staff showered me with smiles and kept passing me amaretto biscuits. The chicken with mushrooms, pepper, white wine and cream was divine. The coffee was out of this world. The place was filled with aging Italians, laughing heartily over their hearty meals. Phrases like “Mama mia!” and “Molto bene!” seemed to fit in perfectly with the boisterous conversations and the fine white wine.
After my meal, I sat there grinning for no reason, other than sheer happiness. I came to London to find something, but ended up finding something much better.
I should write a Thank You letter to Mr Accent.
Posted by Jacqui at May 15, 2003 10:59 AM
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Comments
Better luck next time !!
Posted by: Mummy at May 16, 2003 02:37 PM
Is that you in the picture on your web site (since your photo log doesn't seem to work)?
Just curious
Posted by: buntz at May 16, 2003 03:33 PM
No, darling. Not me.
Posted by: Jacqui at May 16, 2003 04:01 PM