Football frenzy

The streets of London were eerily quiet. Hardly a person was walking across the pavement expanse of Trafalgar Square. And the poor people on the square were to be pitied.

Unfortunately, I was one of those people to be pitied.

I’m not sure if you are aware, but it’s the World Cup. Before this week, my knowledge of soccer—I mean, football— was limited to facts from Bend It Like Beckham and She’s the Man.

Maggie, our football fanatic, gave us specific instructions on how to stay alive during the US-England game: Keep your mouth shut.

She should have warned us to get there early.

Biz and I took the tube to Westminster in the hopes of joining our friends before finding a pub to watch the England-Algeria game. Unfortunately, our communication skills were lacking and Biz and I found ourselves separated from our friends.

No big deal, we thought. We’ll just find another pub, eat and watch the game.

How wrong we were.

During a football game, London comes almost to a standstill.  The streets are silent because everyone is crammed into the pubs.  Only a few pubs were void of people, and these were the ones with signs that said, “Football Free Zone.”

On the other hand, all the other pubs were so full, they didn’t even have room for two rain-splattered American girls looking for a cultural experience.  We were going crazy because even though the streets were empty, we could hear the cheers through the pub walls whenever the game got intense.

When we finally found a pub that would accept us, we grabbed a pint and burger and plunked down to watch the second half of the game.  The energy of the locals picked my mood up and, even though the game was anticlimactic with a 0-0 draw, I walked home singing, “Come ON Eng-LAND!”

Note Bene: I will be in Dublin this weekend and won’t be able to blog until sometime tuesday. Slán!

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