ingerland 04: day 3

right. so what is it about the english and talking elevators. can somebody please explain? even our small-change elevator at the hotel speaks. its almost impossible to understand what it does say, but it clearly does say something. i assume it says: doors opening. doors closing. but thats just an educated guess. as i said, its hard to make out. i’ll try to understand it. i mean it is making an effort to communicate with me.

other than the elevator computer voice with a volume that francly can only be called pathetic, i think that paula le dieu is right. london is a very loud city. i am writing this shortyly after 5 in the morning – yup, i woke up that early again – and the city hum is loud even now. apparently cars here do not have to be muffeled as much as in other countries. so cabs and buses are very loud. and theres tons of them. and that makes for a rather loud basic hum at all times.

but even more noisy are the english in social circumstances. take the pub for instance. very loud music and people screaming over the top of it to hear eachother. the bartender turning the music up to hear the music over the screaming people. the people getting yet louder. and so forth. then the clubs. i remember a few years ago, when i still did go clubbing, that i had to leave a few clubs, because it was simply too loud. how uncool am i, huh? but! the volumes was such that it made me almost puke. or take football stadiums. loud! and all this because the buses are so loud, just a trickle down chain of events?

inside buses however everybody is super quiet. an almost embarred silence. luckily, the bus takes care of volume.

i said usually nobody speaks. not always tho. last night i take the bus to the west end to go eat at masala zone. the nice indian thali shop. in the bus i sit down in the almost empty upper deck. very few people sit up here with me. just 1 other guy and 3 teenage girls in the back. all is well until one of the girls starts to sing. very loud. and very off-key. she has a terrible singing voice which she tries to compensate with volume. it of course makes it worth, but she does not seem to know. nor care. after awhile i turn around to take a look at her. and straight away i notice, that this is what she has waited for. a wave of jamaican abuse flows my way. then she starts singing again. and of course even louder this time. and even more off-key, if thats humanly possible. she clearly enjoys this. i almost appologize to the other guy for bringing this on. but he soon gets out. when i get off near oxford circus another wave of abuse follows me out.

right as i step out onto oxford street alfie calls. turns out boom boom is way far from where i am staying. i decide that i am too tired. i need to rest to be ready for the big party tonite.

later, after eating, the same 3 girls board the same bus and go to the back. “ahhhh, look there is dat monnnn again, bombahclad”. this time i do not give in to her provocations. unfortunatley the guy who sits just in front of me does. he now is the focus of her abuse. she is a very poor abuser. she keeps repeating herself. she says “you with your stoopid sideburns” three times. its not me this time, but with the guy sitting just in front of me, its still flowing sort of my way. i feel a tingeling sensation in my back.

so now. today? alfie and i will hit the computer fair, then i want to see wales-ingerland in a pub, as you would, and then on to the partay. wooo. cant wait to meet some of these freaks.

please ignore this post, i might be kinda traumatised, i am afraid.. ugh.

About Jan Zuppinger

Jan Zuppinger has been writing this blog since 2002. He likes to grow vegetables. He likes to eat them too. He has opinions on everything, but sadly no one cares. Jan Zuppinger is not joking, just joking, he is joking, just joking, he's not joking. *click.