Escalators to (and from) the Underground

The walls of the escalators to all the tubes are blanketed with ads. There are ads every two inches or so.

Wait a second!...<blink blink>...Holy smokes!!! Did I read that right?

Yep, you read that right. Don Johnson. Sonny Crockett. Mr. Miami Vice, unshaven, pastel jacket and T-shirt himself. Yes, indeed, you better 'book now'. In fact it's probably too late.

"Guys and Dolls with Don Johnson!??! Luck certainly WAS a lady tonight!!!"

So it's good to know if I ever become a major Hollywood star and then suddenly am washed up, I can always hop over to London to have a career.

Now you know why they call it 'The Tube'. Because it's shaped like a tube. Clever eh? Do you get it?

More advertising art on a brushed aluminum--sorry, aluminium--canvas

Here is the outside of Harrods department store. This place is like six stories, plus a basement. It's really like a mall, except instead of lots of small independently-operated stores inside, it's all Harrods.

They have about 50 different rooms, which are really different stores...one room will have gifts and souvenirs, one will have perfume, another room sells jewelry, another room sells books, another games, another lingerie... Another room is a butcher shop. Another room has pizza and Krispy Kreme. Another room is a bakery. But it's all Harrods.

There are about ten entrances. The whole store takes up its own city block. We didn't see it all, because if we had we would've had to skip, y'know, the rest of London. Do you understand the point I am making. It's a big store. It makes Walmart look like a Saturday-only flea market in a gravel parking lot. Of course, you can actually afford things in Walmart.

And somewhere in the middle of Harrods is this room.

We had forced our way through the crowd into one of the entrances of Harrods, despite the fact that it was crammed full of people so tightly that you might as well be on the tube. Even in the midst of that mob, I could still notice something different about my girlfriend, some subtle change in her demeanor. She suddenly seemed more alert. I saw her eyes widen. Her nostrils flared a bit. Then she was off.

It was all I could do to keep up as she power-walked through Perfumes, through Souvenirs, dodging people like they were motionless, through Men's Clothing, up two or three escalators, through Lingerie, and directly to the center of the store, as if she'd been the architect who designed Harrods...straight to this place. The Chocolate Shop. These two--dare I say it--vats are completely filled with warm churning chocolate.

We were asked to leave shortly after my girlfriend got undressed and actually climbed into one of the vats in an obviously rapturous trance-like state. (But not before I got plenty of great pictures, coming soon on the pay site.) She still to this day doesn't remember doing any of this, but when I bring up Harrods she gets a warm comfortable content feeling, and she can't explain why.

The immortal Harrods Bear...it lives eternally. It can only be killed by having its head severed from its body by the blade of another immortal. It walks the earth, doomed to outlive each of its human lovers. In theaters this May.

That's my girlfriend standing under the Sale sign on the side of Harrods, her arms filled with packages. Do you get it? She bought the stuff inside that was on sale. This is right after we were asked to leave.