Monday, January 24, 2011

Confrontation Is My Forte

I was sitting in the pub beneath our hostel in London (all the hostels here seem to be the upper floors of pubs, as far as I can tell), when two girls came bursting through the door from upstairs into the bar.

"There's some creepy guy in our bedroom. He tried to climb into my bed, and we think he might be drunk or something."

It was an interesting turn of events, considering there was a good chance we were in the same room. So I turned around to see who was speaking.

He likes Parisian coffee shops (like this one) and took me
to London to see Les Miserables for our one-year anniversary.
Watch out, ladies.
That was the moment my novio burst into the pub through the same doors, eyes wide and hands raised like anyone who has ever had the library alarm go off on them for no reason. The fussy brunette in a matching pajama set demanded he explain himself.

But once he had ("I was just trying to open the window, and I slipped and fell.") and once the barman had back him up ("I did ask him to open the window in there, actually.") the girl still looked fussy. She lectured; my novio apologized for the misunderstanding. She lectured; the barman appeased. She took a breath to start lecturing again.

That's when I may or may not have charged into the fight. I may or may not have narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms in an equally fussy manner and stood between her and my novio. I may or may not have jutted my hip out and verbally implied that any boyfriend of a girl who looked like me would have no reason to climb into her bed besides to open a window. I also may or may not have elbowed her in the face.

Either way, I believe as Gerret Keizer says, "I believe in chivalry more than harmony," and my novio needed defending.

No comments:

Post a Comment