“Or the time that you were falling on the floor in a club, and he carried you out, chasing after you when you ran away from him. He then put you into the car with a trash bag in hand. He was constantly asking you if you were feeling okay. And just to make my argument even more solid than it is already, he carried you to your room when you passed out in the car. He tucked you in and then left an Advil and a bottle of cold water at your side. It was from the mini fridge though, which I highly disapproved of. Who would want to participate in the scam that is a mini fridge?” He shivers in disgust.
“That’s common human decency.” I shake my head.
“Which you constantly say he lacks.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. The man is disgusted by my presence.”
“Whatever you say,” he sings out the last syllable, elongating it.
One thing about Xavier is that he has an overactive imagination. Most of the time, I love him for it, but in this particular case, not so much.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at Waterloo train station. You may take your bags out of the compartment above you. Make sure to check for any lost items in the process. Thank you for your cooperation, and welcome to London.”
I’m on a huge red tourist bus in the middle of London, the ones with cameras on the ledge at the beginning of the seating area. I’m also holding a tripod, so that the social media team can get us from every angle. Xavier is looking over the side of the bus at the streets around him while Mr. Donatello sits comfortably in a seat looking down at his phone.
The bus stops right in front of Big Ben. I gaze up at the building in front of us.
“It’s not as tall as I imagined.”
“That’s because most people from all around the world hear that it’s one of the tallest buildings in the world. They’re wrong,” I hear Mr. Donatello say from behind me.
“I mean, it’s a staple for most,” I respond.
“Yeah, just like the castle in Disneyland; it’s miniscule compared to Disney World’s version,” he says, trying to solidify his argument. But I turn around abruptly at the words Disneyland coming out of his mouth.
“I would have never imagined those words coming out of your mouth. The big question is, how can you even compare?”
“My ex-wife was obsessed with theme parks, and we would go every so often.” I still at the mention of his wife.
“I bet that was a pleasant experience for you.” He looks at me with a stoic expression.
“It was one of the most unpleasant experiences I have ever had in my life, just like that marriage. Children running around everywhere, greasy food, long lines, and those stupid little ears that cost half of your life savings.”
“It’s all a part of the magic, though I could live with the mental image of you in those ears on for the rest of my life.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I would never put those ears on.” We hear someone walk up the steps and turn to see one of the social media team members appear.
“Okay, everyone, we have access to the Palace and the Tower of London if you will all come down and follow me.” He gestures towards the exit of the bus.
Passing Mr. Donatello, I walk down the stairs, closing the distance between me and the door. Sitting down on the concrete, I nestle more into my wool coat. Fuck, it’s cold. It’s supposed to be summer! At least the sun’s out. I guess since we’re close to the river, it’s bound to be breezy. I’m Mexican. I don’t like the cold; I loathe it. We follow and make our way to the entrance of the castle.
“During the winter, the castle isn’t open to visitors. Buckingham Palace is open during the summer as the Royal Family are on holiday at Balmoral.”
He keeps talking about the history of the castle and how much London has industrialized over the years to become the Metropolitan wonder it is today. We follow him as he continues speaking about the palace. The palace truly is beautiful. When it comes to historical wonders, I’m all here for it.
Finally, we exit the palace after three miles of walking and make our way through an opening that leads to the Tower of London. Walking into The Crown Jewels exhibition, I gasp in awe. Obviously, I can’t touch anything, but it’s breathtaking. The tour guide discusses how they use them during the coronation rituals and in what order. It’s a super tedious ceremony. I stop in front of an emerald crown, which shines in comparison to the others. It is by far my favorite piece out of the whole collection.
Mr. Donatello creeps up like the leech he is.
“That’s Queen Victoria’s Emerald tiara, it was her favorite. Most say it’s because it was her month’s birthstone,” he says.
“Emeralds have always been my favorite gemstone, and this just solidifies my obsession. If I was a queen, this would be my favorite too.” He nods as he walks away to look around again. Walking out of the collection, we make our way around the outdoor area leading to the tower.
“This was where Anne Boleyn was wrongfully accused by King Henry VIII of adultery and was ultimately executed.” Poor girl, that’s what happens when men are in power. This only confirms my thought process about how men are trash.
We make our way inside the tower. It’s eerie and the light shines only in a few spots as very tiny windows go up the base of the tower. The stairs ascend in a spiral motion, and we make our way up until we reach the room at the top. It’s a small space, meaning that Mr. Donatello is directly behind me. I can feel his breath on the base of my neck and the tension could break glass.
Thank God for the tour guide. He opens the door so we can walk in and see where countless prisoners were kept.How fun.