Thursday Night

I stopped in the red light where Wardour St. meets Oxford St, right by Angels. A guy, that was just crossing it, shouted: "Take me to my house!" "Where is your house?" "I don`t remember! Do you remember where is it?" I told him I wasn`t sure. I turned left in Oxford St. After a while I saw a group of young people. They just flagged down a black cab and now were hastily trying to catch up with it. One of them - quite a fit bird - was striding unsteadily on her high hills right in front of me. Checking her legs I noticed that she had pierced a flattened up, empty can of beer with one of her stiletto boots and it got stuck on it. She didn`t seem to be bothered though and I guessed that she hadn`t even dicovered this lovely little knickknack yet. In Oxford Circus I turned left and soon I got to Piccadily Circus. Then I halted in the red lights again. A bloke dressed in a very tight and glossy spandex costume was slowly getting through the crossing. All the present rednecks were giggling while pointing out his naked back with fingers, enthusiastically showing it to each other. As I entered Coventry St. a drunk, ugly bitch with a fag in her hand, screamed at me from a wide open window of a car that was just passing me by. "Why are you in the way?!" Almost immediately they got stuck in a traffic. I carried on past Leicester Square and China Town towards Soho. In the corner of Wardour and Winnett St. I saw one of those louts that always hang over there in search of any opening windows of opportunity, talking to some drunk, angry fellow who probably just got nicked. I heard the first one saying again and again: "I dont`t know! I wasn`t here! I don`t know..." I rode through Old Compton St. A blond in a very tight trousers suddenly turned around. "I DO NOT HAVE A BIG ASS!" - she uttered reproachfully to following her british youngsters. I took a left into Charring Cross Rd. Just around the corner the Police was separating some fighting latinos that probably just left Salsa. Hot blood was boiling and the officers didn`t get an easy job at all. As I got to Oxford St. an impatient man in a high vis vest asked me about Subway the sandwich bar. I was trying to direct him when I understood that, beyond any doubt at all, it disappeared... Three buildings next to each other got shut and ready for refurbishment or maybe demolition. I moved on and in the next crossing I let some people pass through. I heard this ugly girl saying: "Yeah! He really gets on my nerves! He tried to pull my skirt up earlier..." Amazed I looked at her again wandering how desperate this poor guy must had been... A little bit further up the road an American stopped me askig about Subway... "Oh... It`s shut down, mate, but if you want food..." Finally I got a lift! When I came back to Oxford St. I saw those two guys wearing suits. One was carrying a street rubish bin while the other was in a possession of one of those metal Evening Standard stands that announce what`s cracking today. They stopped for a moment, swapped the objects between`em and went on. I went around for once more and I got back to the base. The gate was out of order. I could hardly open it. "Que hases a esta hora, guevon?" Asked me a fellowrider from Columbia. "Lo de siempre. Me busco la vida..."