Monday, July 14, 2014
karma police, thought police
Since the students arrive tomorrow, today was the second, and final, day I had alone with Miles. He's an ideal travel companion: interesting, super funny, smart, and never a single complaint about anything. He's also short on opinions about what we do or where we go, so I figured I would just tailor the day to the kinda stuff he likes. We set out for downtown, wearing the same clothes we wore yesterday. And the day before. Still no luggage.
Once we hit Denmark Street, Miles was in heaven. It's store after store of music shops, filled with every kind of stringed instrument you can think of. We hit every single one. In some of them, I relaxed in an armchair while Miles plucked chords on guitar after guitar. In others, he plucked a mandolin. In one, he played the bass line of "Seven Nation Army" and another guitarist, across the shop, joined in on the chorus. Some shops plugged him in, other shops tuned him out and went about their business. But it was a solid three hours, stopping only for a Chipotle (because Daddy hasta eat,) and pure unfiltered music. I loved it.
We headed back to the flat to pick up our luggage (finally!) and there was Miles' suitcase, ready and waiting. Mine, however, was nowhere in sight (oh for realz?) so we went south of the river and ate some pizza so I would at least feel better. There was nothing to be done about the way I smelled. (And still smell, as I write this at 11 pm.)