Stepping on Aggies

Were you to visit Lilian Penson Hall, at the cul de sac of Talbot Square in London, you would find, amongst beautifully styled Georgian town homes, a concrete rebar monstrosity straight out of East Berlin. And the crown jewel of this architectural scar is room 108, my room incidentally, where vomit-colored plaster and the liberal application of asbestos and lead paint presents perhaps the most convincing proof of man’s total depravity. Though on a beautiful sunny day in London, with the windows thrown open, our hovel is actually quite nice. On Thursday Shane’s two Aggie friends, Juan and Mary Helen, came to visit and over the next two days I learned what is was like to share 150 square feet with three other people (like sleeping on a Tokyo subway). Of course the Aggies were great, and apart from the torture of listening to the Greatest Hits of Randy Travis (I thought Article III of the Geneva Convention forbid ‘cruel treatment and torture’ of civilians… so much for the rule of international law), their company was most welcome. With no classes on Friday I decided to take in a show, since London is reputed to have some of the best theater in the world, rivaling if not surpassing Broadway. I met Erica at Leicester Square to buy tickets to a show later that evening (I was hoping to see some Shakespere). While standing in line we read about a critically acclaimed musical at the Cambridge Theater, which made history by winning every award granted in Britain for ‘Best Musical.’ Convinced by the hype, we secured our tickets to “Jerry Springer the Opera” and decided to visit the British Museum in the hours leading up to the much-anticipated performance. In hindsight, I should have realized that any production involving the persona of Jerry Springer would be best avoided, but more on that later.



It was really considerate of the British to collect most of the world’s ancient treasures and put them all under one roof. Founded by Sir Hans Sloane in 1753, the massive campus houses over six million artifacts, and should you ever doubt the remarkable reach of The Empire, just remember that the museum has more mummies than Egypt, more marble friezes than Greece, and more manuscripts than… well, you get the idea. In the above photo, you can see the old British Library, now the museum reading room, which forms the apex of the Great Court, the largest enclosed square in Europe. Like kids in a candy store, it was hard to know where to start, so we decided to see the 3D mummy exhibit narrated by Gandalf (Ian McKellen) – followed by a lightning fast tour of the ancient world. I tried getting a picture of the Rosetta stone, but that black piece of granite is like the rock star of antiquities, so I couldn’t get in for a close up (I think it even has its own groupies). Discovered by one of Napoleon’s generals in 1799 near the Egyptian port city of Rosetta, this pharaohic declaration allowed the French to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphs for the first time. The stone was later surrendered to the British after Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo. Despite the crowds, I did manage to get into a face-to-face altercation with a huge bust of Ramses II – I shook my fist and told him to let my people go. We also glimpsed the famous, and controversial, Elgin Marbles in the Ancient Greece exhibit. These large marble friezes were removed from the Parthenon by Lord Elgin in 1801 and have been on display in the British Museum ever since. The Greeks have demanded the return of the statuary for much of the twentieth century, but their cause reached a fevered pitch as the Athenian summer Olympics grew closer. Of course the museum claims rightful ownership of the pieces. I’m of the opinion that the British deserve a little something for all their trouble… after all, civilizing savages is no easy business. And speaking of savages...



As the museum closed, it was time to head back to the West End to see “Jerry Springer the Opera.” It’s nice to know that American cultural exports are so popular on this side of the pond, and apart from foul language, the first half was quite hilarious. In the above photo, the Ku Klux Klan had just finished a River Dance routine complete with tap dancing and a flaming cross. In the second half, a murdered Jerry Springer descended into Hell where he produced a reconciliation show between God and satan. At this point the play became extremely blasphemous, so much so that I can’t even recount the dialogue, but I was sitting on the front row and couldn’t leave the theater. At one point in particular, I simply clenched my fists and started praying for God’s mercy on me and especially on the actors. It’s not enough that we murdered our Creator; we now lampoon Him on stage as well. I’ll be sure to stick with Shakespeare next time.