I woke up the next morning and believe it or not, was happy to see the steady rain. It sounds ridiculous, right? But if I was planning on spending the entire day in a museum, I was glad not to have beautiful weather outside.
My hotel was selected in part because of its proximity to the British Museum, just over a mile each way. For most of my coherent life, I’ve wanted to go to the British Museum. Pretty much anything historical is housed within its walls, everything from pre-historic artifacts from the Bronze Age to Egyptian mummies to the marbles from the Greek Parthenon to the Rosetta Stone to whatever else you might want to see. According to their website, you can search 3.5 million items online! The most incredible thing is that there’s free admission.
I am usually the most annoying person to go to a museum with. I have this inveterate need to know things, so that means that I end up reading all of the small placards next to pretty much any exhibit. I mean, who knows what interesting tidbit you may learn and then irritate someone else with your newfound knowledge? I started exploring the British Museum the same way I do in all museums – starting with the first room, reading the placard for the first item I encountered, and gazing appreciatively at the displayed item. After the third exhibit, I realized that I was not even going to leave the first room before they closed if I continued at that pace.
I opened up the map of the museum to plot out my course through the building. I sped up, stopping to admire only the things that really caught my eye. After three hours, I wasn’t even off the same floor I started out in. I hadn’t even made it to the show stoppers yet. At that point, I was starting to walk through galleries of priceless historical items without even stopping – oh, there’s four rooms devoted to Etruscan pottery? That’s nice but I’m not stopping. In any other museum, I would have been transfixed by things I was now rushing past.
I knew I made it to the mummy room by the noise of about a thousand small children. Fortunately, there was another room devoted to mummies right behind it. The Rosetta Stone was mobbed. It was like trying to catch a glimpse of the Mona Lisa. The section devoted to the temple of Nimrod was blissfully less-trafficked. The Nereid Monument was stunning. Unfortunately, the World of Alexander and the Mausoleum of Halikarnassos galleries were closed. By hour six, I was culturally overloaded. I don’t think I could have processed anymore. I realized that I couldn’t even think about trying to head to the other side of the museum. The Asia, Americas, Middle East, and Africa galleries would need to wait until the next time.
When I exited the museum, I saw that the rain had slowed to a drizzle. I stopped at a nearby Sainsbury to pick up snacks and then take a different route back to the hotel for some more wandering. I guess carrying a bag from a grocery store really makes you look like a local because I must have been stopped 4 times along the way by people asking for directions. The ridiculous thing was, despite the fact that I had only been in London for approximately 24 hours, I knew how to get people to where they wanted to go.
When I got back to the hotel, I had a decision I needed to make. You see, Adam Ant was playing a show in London that night. I hadn’t gotten tickets for that show for whatever reason; but now, sitting in my hotel room I debated with myself on whether to get cleaned up and take the Tube to the other side of London to catch the show. I knew based on a quick look online that there were scattered single seats left. After a good 15 minutes, I finally asked myself the question that I seem to ask myself the most over the last year and a half: If the melanoma comes back and it’s not a good prognosis, would I regret not doing this?
You see, that philosophy of regretting the things you didn’t do gets put into extremely sharp focus when you actually think you may not have the time to do all of that stuff that you put off until later. During that seemingly endless time of waiting to see what my prognosis was, there were a lot of things that I was worried that I would never have the chance to do. And it also made me realize how much of my life I’ve delayed doing things until the timing was perfect (and perfection just doesn’t exist in this world).
That made up my mind. I hurriedly got ready, walked to Kings Cross station and jumped on the Tube heading towards Kensington (an area that I hadn’t had a chance to explore yet anyway) to make my way towards Royal Albert Hall. Finally above ground, I got to take in the exteriors of the Victoria and Albert Museum as well as the National History Museum. (And regretfully realized that no matter how long I stayed in London, I would never get the chance to fully explore every museum contained in the city.) The architecture on this side of town was very different from that on “my side” of town near Kings Cross. It had the air of a very posh planned community. I felt slightly underdressed. Rounding a corner near the Imperial College, there was the Royal Albert Hall in all of its Victorian splendor. The juxtaposition of this ornate building and the fact that a lot of Adam Ant’s music is punk made me giggle. Would Albert have approved?
I made my way over to the box office and when it was my turn, I asked the woman for a single seat, closest to the stage. I was thinking that nosebleed seats were probably the only ones left at that point. She smiled as she printed the ticket. I was so excited to be there that I never asked her where the seat was actually located. I showed my ticket to the usher who scanned it and told me “first door on the left”. At the door, the usher there looked at my ticket and said in a voice that sounded just like Angela Lansbury, “oh, yes please, right this way”. And then opened the curtain…
My seat must have been a late release of a production or artist seat because I was literally sitting on the right side of the stage… in the front row. I almost fell down the steps in shock. Once I got situated in my seat (and in RAH they swivel, which I had way too much fun with), I never left. And I’m pretty sure I never stopped smiling because my cheeks ached the next day.
My view of the Adam Ant concert, Royal Albert Hall, London
Of course, the concert was amazing. And of course I made myself hoarse singing along. I found some clips of the show on YouTube shot from the other side of the stage where you could actually see me in the background. In short, I had the time of my life. I am so glad I learned how to reframe things in my mind to make sure that I don’t miss out on really cool experiences. I could have easily talked myself out of going to a concert that ended up being an incredible night.
After the show, I wandered along the street with the crowd back to the Tube station. I’m pretty sure people didn’t want to sit near me on the train since I had the permanent grin of someone who’s just had “the best time ever” and most people don’t broadly smile like Americans do, especially out in public. Back at my hotel, I spent quite a long time trying to unwind and get to sleep. And when I finally did, it was to the soundtrack of my favorite concert experience ever…