Queen Latifah Invented Class

Have you ever been hit in the head with a frozen banana?

Metaphorically speaking, I’ve been hit in the head with dozens of frozen bananas throughout my first month in London. My most recent encounter with this figurative fruit occurred in Covent Garden – the heart of London’s classiness; if the already-half-off £145 sweaters don’t signify high-class, then the pee-infested telephone booths should. To be honest, the old me would have believed that Queen Latifah invented this so-called “class.” However, London quickly informed me otherwise, and I now trust that a new queen has taken reign: Elizabeth II.

My constant quest for an epic adventure began just outside the tube station. With a pen, blue chalk, and colourful stickers in hand, I immersed myself in a now somewhat familiar culture and took to the streets in an effort to lose myself. Using these objects, I quickly left my mark on several obscure landmarks. Yes, taking pictures and leaving behind a handwritten note inside the closest red telephone booth is a predictable, touristy gesture, but I also found myself in rather unusual places, too.

My inner child directed me toward Covent Garden’s Disney store. Inspired, I attached a note next to a stuffed version of Pinocchio, which read: “When you wish upon a star.” Despite the store owner’s weird, unnecessary glares from across the room, I left feeling both accomplished and virtuous.

My love for film (along with my apparent creepiness) doesn’t stop there. The 2012 BAFTA Film Awards are being held down the street from the Disney store at London’s Royal Opera House. Tickled as hell, I scoped out the premises in preparation for this Sunday’s award ceremony. Sidenote: The thought of meeting Meryl Streep, Marty Scorsese, and George Clooney thrills me, but will fulfilling this giddy delight be worth a potential restraining order? I think so.

After escaping BAFTA security, I decided that my night’s adventure was satisfying enough, so I started to head home. Hardly had I made my way around the block that I was interrupted by the lights and sounds of adulthood. I was hypnotized – and, to be honest, I still am. Attempting to regain my composure, I casually took my first step into a new world: a casino. “I hit the jackpot,” I thought. If only it was truly that simple.

I was down £2 in two minutes, so I started to second-guess all of my childhood fantasies revolving around casinos. I was at a standstill; I previously romanticized the flickering lights, high-pitched bells, and the sound of coins tumbling from slot machines, but I was now aware that reality isn’t as sweet. I abandoned my unlucky slot machine and quickly scuttled off to an open arcade game.

Rather than spending 50 pence per play on the slot machines, I decided that 10 pence per play on “Coin Dozer” allotted me higher odds at winning (cause, let’s face it, I wasn’t going home empty-handed). The objective of Coin Dozer is simple: drop coins into the machine in attempts to make more coins (and souvenirs) fall as its “bulldozer” lever moves back and forth. I wasn’t in the mood for a physics lesson from my friends, so I randomly placed coins into the machine. After 30 minutes of play, I came out ahead and had to call it quits (though I honestly could have played until sunrise). My newfound obsession took complete control over my body, so it was only fitting that I left a post-it note on my recently discovered best friend, the Coin Dozer, stating “Spencer has a gambling problem.”

My emotional high lasted nearly 48 hours after leaving Covent Garden, so I was compelled to return on multiple occasions throughout the week. Though the assholes who work at my now least favourite Disney Store took down my sign, the note I left inside that abandoned telephone booth was still standing strong, proving that I’m the phone booth’s bravest and only patron within the last five years.

Obstacles and all, each frozen banana tossed at my head allows me to understand something different about my new environment. Although escaping from life’s hardships and constant chaos is no easy task, losing myself in a new city – even for just a moment – allowed me to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes. I just wish that person had bigger feet.