Runnin' Amok in the U.K. & Japan - Did I Ever Tell You About The Time I...

I made a proclamation the summer before my 21st birthday that by that momentous occasion I would be in England. By that date, I had my airline ticket, and three weeks later I was off. 

As I went alone I found myself roaming around quite a bit, not really bored, but a little bit shy. I often found myself in Piccadilly Circus and Leicester Square watching street performers and the like.

On this particular occasion I had remembered to bring my camera along. I was often leaving in my locked bag at the hostel I was staying at in East Acton as my biggest fear while visiting England was to look like a tourist. But on this evening I threw caution to the wind as I lay on my stomach in the center "island" in Picadilly and snapped away on my Pentax 35mm camera pictures of the famous advertising signs for Foster's and Konica Cameras.

Just behind me, sitting in an ostensibly hierachal order on the steps of the Piccadilly fountain were a group of sullen-looking punk rockers. I rolled over on my side and discreetly tried to get them all into a snapshot, but when I looked closer I noticed one seemed to be looking back at me. A heavy-set girl with green spiked hair.

Since they didn't look very welcoming I thought I would try the direct approach. I stood to my feet and walked over to the fountain. Since it was she that I thought might voice an objection if she caught me trying to take her picture, I addressed my question to her.

I did so with one small catch -- I asked her adopting an accent that I often used into fooling American girls I was from England.

"'Scuse me? Can I get yer pic-sha for me magazine?"

"Ask him," was her prompt reply, as she pointed to the one sitting in the highest of the fountain's steps. He was a muscular black guy with a tall spiked mohawk haircut. I eased two steps to my right.

"'Scuse me, mate? Can I get yer pic-sha for me magazine?"

"Three quid."

Since I still wasn't sure how many pounds were in a quid (!), I hesitated.

"Will you be 'ere tomorrow, I'll have to get me magazine to forward me the money."

"Where you from? Australia?" the mohawked-punk asked.

Australia? "No, Norf...Ireland?" I practically asked, immediately knowing I just blew it.

"Bullocks," the punk replied.

I know why North, because I would tell people I was from North Hampton, but Ireland?

I smirked nervously as I slowly walked away. I wanted to look over my shoulder but I feared they might come after me so, picking up the pace, I quickly walked away.

One can guess my surprise when I finally learned that quid is the same as pound. I would have happily paid $3 for that picture!

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