All that Jazz

We had to get up at 6.30 on Friday morning in order to get a taxi to the airport in time to catch our plane to...London! He had the flights booked so that we would get over nice an early so we could grab some lunch before checking into our hotel. The train from Stanstead to Liverpool St. Station was absolutely packed meaning we had to stand for the 45min journey along with a lot of other people. We had contemplated sneaking into First Class, but decided against it. It was funny however, when we were getting off the train an extremely posh British woman opened the first class carriage doors, looked at us disgustedly like the lower-class train-travelers we were, expecting us to move out of her way, and instead got stuck in the automatic closing doors, while trying to retain a dignified look on her well-chewed-toffee face. Karma's a bitch!



We arrived at the station, and grabbed the tube. For the whole trip I was working blindly, as I had no clue where we were going and what was planned for the weekend. We got off at Euston station and made our way to our hotel. My jaw dropped when we stopped outside non other than the Hilton hotel! The hotel was really nice, although not completely opulent. We sashayed in....cause it seemed like the place that required a sashay-type entrance, got the keycard from the desk and went to our room. We managed to figure out how to open the stupid door with the keycard just in time as one of the chambermaids, or 'help', walked by in the corridor, about to offer assistance. The room was reasonable size, nice big double bed with white down-filled duvet and pillows, large TV, kettle, gorgeous big bathroom etc. It was just so nice that he put all this thought and organisation into it, especially since it was me who did all the organising for our trip to Paris.



We grabbed some dinner that evening in Garfunkel's just off Oxford Street, before going back to the hotel to get ready for the evening. All I new was to wear something dressy and that we had to be there at 8. We got off the tube at Charring Cross, and from there walked up to the Adelphi Theatre to take our seats for the 8.30 show of Chicago! I mean, the flights, the hotel and now a west-end show! I couldn't believe it!



The seats we had were in the second row, meaning we were basically right up against the stage. The show was fantastic - especially seeing as we got an extra-special view of the male performers in their awe-inspiring, crotch-hugging, ass-lifting trousers and bare chests. There was so much action at times that my head was spinning to catch it all on stage. The lighting and live jazz band were amazing, as well as the dancing and singing. Michael French (ex-Eastenders) who played Billy Flynn just proved how shit Richard Gere was in the film. I really really enjoyed it - much more so than I had expected too. Although, the German-tinged over-emphasised Am-or-icayne accent of the actress playing Velma Kelly at times made me chuckle - especially during the "I love this country (America)" speeches. The show was all that jazz, and much, much more.



After a fantastic nights sleep, we spent most of the day Saturday around Oxford Street doing a bit of shopping, although I was a little disappointed that nothing was that much cheaper than it is at home. And is it just me or do all the London men look, well, gay? I mean the straight ones. It seems like GHD owes its existence to the London metrosexual (or here) population - simply due to the fact that every second man had a straightened 'do, which reeked havoc on the gaydar. And don't get me started on the clothes they wear - tight t-shirts, crotch-hugging jeans and tailored suits. My gaydar was sent into even further confusion when we went out that night to G.A.Y. All the gay men looked 'straighter' than the straight men, right down to their ben sherman shirts *shiver*.



G.A.Y. looked like an older version of the Redbox. Located in the Astoria theatre, the place was huge - with a big stage, big dance floor, seating up on the balcony and second bar at the back. The music was pure 90s with P.A.'s from Michelle Gayle, Chesney Hawkes and Dana International. Chesney proved to be the most entertaining on the night - getting the crowd going with a rendition of American Pie. Michelle Gayle seemed to forget the words to her own song and Dana was basically a glorified drag-show complete with bad miming and glittery body-suit. One thing that struck me as really odd, was that hardly anybody who got up on the stage danced. They just stood there, so why the fuck did they bother to get up there in the first place?? All in all, not that many people were really dancing - it was more of a stand-around-the-place-and-shuffle-your- feet-side-to-side type of affair. Very strange indeed. We had a laugh, though there was only so much of old Steps, Corona and N-trance we could take before we called it a night. We flew home on Sunday (incidentally a mix up resulted in us being 2 hours early for our flight) after having a fantastic weekend in London. Highly recommended!