So, though my work is a blast, I'm here to enjoy what London has to offer. (Believe it or not, I've not gone shopping yet! I'm holding off until next week. )
Here's the stories on the parties:
Remember Daz... well, his boy Simbad (from France) invited us to a club called "Neighborhood" on Thursday, some friends or colleagues of theirs were playing. (It's the perfect spot for a club. It's built under a road or train-line; so you can blast the music as loud as you want.) Well, on the lineup was Pharrell, in addition to the main guests. There was a monstrous line; and I've hadn't had to wait in line since I was a teen; I guess I've been spoiled. We were on the guest list too, but still had to be in line. We waited in line from 8:45pm to 11pm before we reached the top of the line, and were told: "Guest list ends at 10:30; so you can get in for £10." Of course, we made our exit and went back to MauMau to watch what was left of the Brasil "footy" match.
Friday Simbad text me that the same line-up would be at "Cargo", and I was on the list again. He also left a voicemail assuring me that we would definitely get in this time because it was his "par-eh". DJ Emmerald and I were to meet there. She said it was a bit complicated, but tried her best to give directions. Well...I never made it. I took 3 trains and got lost twice. The second time I roamed East London for about an hour. Emmerald told me to call Daz. Daz tried to walk me through, but by that time I was sofrustratedd and my feet hurt, I already decided to go home. (Later, Bashur, the satellite brother at CNN London, told me I "should never go to East London on my own. Also, on that side of town, its to be expected thelewde and rude comments" I got along the way...)Saturday Simbad text me for yet another party. After baking in the the sun all day at Wimbledon, and not having my first meal until 8pm, I knew I was destined for a long night's rest. After washing up and chillin' out for a while, I decided to text Emmerald just for the sake of it. Lucky for me, she was resting up too. The big party is Sunday. So big, I've heard a couple more people are flying in from Atlanta to check it out.
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Sunday, Sunday, Sunday is the time to get your groove-thang on the dance floor.
And with the line-up of DJ's and emcee's in the place, it seems like the best place in the world to be.
I met up with the crew, but met them at the ticket counter of the tube stop. ( I know now not to roam East London clueless.) I ran up to hug the beautiful Indra, wife to Daz; who flew in from Atlanta just for the weekend. Daz and Just 1 looked funky-fresh as they toted their records
and CD's to the place.In Co-op, near Shortrich, at a spot called Plastic People, the five of us walked in like VIP, past the door, straight to the DJ booth. Daz grabs the mic: "Are you ready to Par-eh?" The crowd thickens. Daz spins the broken beats. About an hour later, "All the way from da ATL" Daz announced, "Atlanta brings you JUST 1"...screams from the crowds welcome Justin as this gig ends his tour of Europe. We danced and danced to soul, techno, and broken beats mixed with gospel. We dance and hugged, smiled and took pictures.
It really was the best place to be in the world be.
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