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Nicole Cook

Charlie Ray  

The air was cool and crisp for a fall night in Piccadilly Circus, London. The streets of the huge intersection were bustling with life, and the feeling of excitement in the air was undeniable. Being sixteen-years-old and on my own with my friends (Janelle, Ashley, and Sharon) in the center of London at night was like a dream come true. Watching the various people arrive in their most stylish evening wear made me envious. As they arrived, by limo, taxi, foot, underground (their subway), or red double-decker bus, it looked like a photo shoot from a high-fashion magazine. One couple in particular caught my attention. The man’s black suit was very well tailored and modern, with white square-toed shoes. His hair was spiked and his eyes hidden by designer aviator sunglasses. His tall, model, brunette counterpart was just as fashionable, wearing a baby-doll cut, glittery mini-dress and sky-high heels. The light of the neon TDK board shone like a beacon in the night, highlighting the Circus and their attire and making them glow.

Behind me lay the Criterion Theatre. A long line of people stood at its doors awaiting the Reduced Shakespeare Company to put on another of its hilarious comedies. In front of me (but on the same block) on top of a multi-leveled pedestal danced a statue of Eros, wings spread and holding his bow and arrow in his left hand. Tourists stopped periodically to take pictures, and the light highlighted the statue like a strobe light would. With each flash, the scene of couples kissing as if asking for the Greek god of love’s blessing, friends and families hugging, and people laughing was visible. The block across the street from us held the neon TDK board, which was nestled atop a Gap store. The intersection was a strange shape as four roads entered and exited at different angles, forming an elongated and random intersection. The two blocks next to us were lined by restaurants and shops, divided from me by famous Regent Street coming in straight and leaving the intersection at an odd angle. On occasion a red double-decker bus passed by with its interior gutted to create a moving club on the streets of London. Inside the happy partiers drank and danced on the two levels as London swept by its windows.

The loud noises of traffic, horns yelling at the daring pedestrians running across the street, many languages from all over the world, and hurried chatter and laughter filled the air of the Circus, as if in a sort of musical ensemble. The restaurants were lined with outdoor seating areas where people danced and drank and seemed to enjoy a good night out. This was how I’d always imagined London to be.

“What should we do?” Ashley impatiently asked.

“We should do something. I’m so bored,” Sharon replied.

“I think we should see what’s down there. Maybe there will be a good pub or something,” Janelle stated, pointing to a dark road running along the TDK board. Ashley had a “larger than life” personality and was always fishing for something to do with Sharon at her heels. Save for Ashley being Mexican, you would swear they were sisters because of their attitudes. Janelle was like me in that we both loved to have fun, but we weren’t nearly as loud or bold as Ashley and Sharon. They had become my sisters since moving to England, and every time we were together we had a fun time. The night was slow, and we all wanted something to do, so Janelle’s suggestion was a welcome one.

Agreeing to explore the street, we dodged traffic to cross the intersection and followed a stream of short and long winding roads until we reached a particularly dirty road. The small back road was lined by a couple of light posts on either side. All of them were out save the last one on the left, flickering violently as if in a fit of survival. The street was littered with debris, as if someone had dumped a dumpster bin on the street and tossed it around before leaving. I felt a rush of excitement and nervousness, eager to see more but at the same time scared. Although this street was dead and the hurried noises of Piccadilly Circus had long died away, we heard voices and laughter with the noticeable shake of music emerging from around the corner. We stood and debated for a few minutes about whether or not we should follow. “We should…we shouldn’t…we should…why not? Okay, let’s go.”

We walked down the street and managed our way through the obstacle course of boxes and other rubbish, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I felt as if I was in a Law and Order opening, and at any moment I would trip and find a dead body. When we rounded the corner at the end of the street, the air was accented by a mix of apprehension and excitement.

A large and busy street opened itself up to us. It was lit by many flashing neon signs indicating the names of the businesses below, making the few street lights unnecessary. The people on the street were very different from those at Piccadilly Circus. Instead of glittery, fashionable dresses, they were wearing all manner of clothing, from jeans and t-shirts to scandalous club wear. A man and a woman walked by, and I couldn’t help but notice their outfits. He wore a pair of black skinny jeans and a black mesh top while she wore a lingerie tank top with a small skirt and sky-high platform heels…very different from the elegance of Piccadilly Circus. On the first block of the street, a large nightclub’s sign beckoned visitors to come inside, and a few booths were scattered on either side of the road in front of its large doors. Inside one booth, a small blonde wearing black fishnet stockings, high heels, a short black shirt, and a skimpy neon pink tank top shouted, “Free lap dances, five pounds!” The women in the other booths said the same after her. Sharon and I looked at each other and chuckled. As people rushed past us, my friend Janelle wondered aloud where we were and looked to the pub next to us for a clue. She gasped. “Guys, there is porn playing in this pub!” In disbelief we checked the window and found that she was telling the truth. Ashley asked a random man where we were. He grunted.

“Yeh Americans call it a red light district righ’?” He walked away with an odd sort of chuckle. Strangely, we started to see the humor. Only we would wander off and find such a place, though our moment of relief was cut short by a voice from behind.

“Oy! Ladies, ladies, ladies, how are you lot doing tonight? I’m Charlie Ray by the way, no joke intended,” he said. We turned around and saw a man who looked like Flavor Flav and the seventies’ love child. He wore a purple sequined suit that screamed for attention and sunglasses with glittery pound signs on them. His fro was very big, and clipped to the left side was a small top hat the size of a muffin. I rubbed my eyes. There was no way this man was real!

“We just went out exploring,” Janelle said.

“What are you – Americans I suppose? – doing here anyway?” he asked. We explained that we went to an American boarding school because our parents were stationed in Europe.

“Ah, London is an awesome city! So clean and full of life…I lived in New York City for a year and a quarter. Didn’t like it too much…very dirty. If you’re going to live somewhere, you should see everything it has to offer. I’m glad you lasses decided to come see us!”

“Umm…we got kinda lost actually…” Janelle said.

“I’d say. You don’t see many girlies such as yourselves out here. Unless of course you’re looking for work?” he asked.

“They don’t need work! I’m their pimpette, and my girls don’t need nothin’ you got!” Ashley joked. He looked a little offset and fired back at her.

“Who are you then? I know everyone on this street, and there are no Americans first off, and second there are no pimpettes!” Adrenaline rushed collectively through us as he spoke…what was he going to do?

“Umm, she was only joking,” I added nervously.

“Oh right. Well, I called your bluff then. Why are you all acting so scared?” We didn’t know what to say. “You Americans are always so uptight, always paranoid that everyone is out to get you…you should really get over it. Have a laugh, have a drink, and by all means go to Charlie’s Club and enjoy the show. It’s good for all truly! Life is too short to take with only caution. Live and let loose! Enjoy the night, ladies!” With that, he disappeared like so many others into the crowd that rushed past us. A collective mix of confusion and humor set in. This was the true circus, not Piccadilly.

We stood and looked to each other. We had just been solicited and lectured by a British pimp in the same hour. Even though he was the complete opposite of my vision of Burberry-wearing posh Britons, he made sense. Who would have thought a pimp had such good advice? I wasn’t just a tourist anymore; I was a resident. A sense of adventure ran through my mind and, looking at my friends, theirs.

“I guess we should have taken the hint at that dumpster street, huh?” Sharon joked. “Do you still want to find that pub?”

“You know, I don’t really want to go into these pubs because, well, they’re playing porn…but I kind of want to see what else is down this street…am I crazy?” Janelle asked.

“No, I want to see what else is down there too,” I added. With that, we walked down the road into the night to meet more people and see what else the streets of London would show us.