There are nights that the Corridor is quite busy, filled with people coming and going – a constant ingress and egress. But, there are other days where Cowley Road is a ghost town, as if all of its residents closed their shutters and cleared away from the road. Normally, however, there is always a steady stream of regulars coming in at their respective times. The bar staff during the daytime knows certain people’s lives in a different way that the bar staff observes people at night. Using the analogy of a Venn diagram, it is common to not have any intersections between the two circles.
It is a privilege for me to been accepted into this wonderful place of regulars and the meandering college-aged groups who are on missions to drink to get drunk. We can take tours of various notable places any time. However, being absorbed by the community and vise versa is special, and I find myself looking forward to seeing the familiar faces and people who have always ever shown kindness to me. Since being here, I have observed the following: golfers dressed in neon colors, Snow White and his twenty-odd dwarves, local Brave Hearts of various colors and patterns, a bar brawl, a person who was so drunk he got hosed down with soda water for his nakedness, groups of clowns, Goths, punkers, disco, and so much more. I can’t even begin to say – this is just at the Corridor. There have been other sightings of such similar folly reported to me by my classmates when there were here.
Yesterday, I went into the Corridor to draw a picture and to check my emails. Before I knew it, it was almost sundown at 9:45 p.m.! I don’t know how time escapes me, but it is wonderful to be swept up in it. It’s the simple pleasures of life that makes it interesting – not the fancy places and activities that usher you from here to there on a ridiculous schedule. Here, I can simply “be” and, though not necessarily “alone,” it’s absolutely splendid. The introvert in me is starting to thaw out and melt into the daily on-goings of a single place from which life springs eternal – for the night at least. There was one surprise last night though: two classmates were still in Oxford and came into the Corridor last night. I had to do a double-take because I thought that everyone, save Joe, had had enough of the Oxford scene. It was good to see them; they’d been at it fast and furious by the time they arrived here, whereas, I had been sipping on my Scotch over ice and with water. Being drunk is highly overrated.
I never go to a place for the sole purpose of getting plastered. It is a bad policy in general. But on more than one occasion, I’ve started off innocuously sipping on my drinks (with plenty of water) only to find myself being poured shots of this or that… I’ve been accused of not appearing inebriated when I am indeed thusly. I have to say, “Trust me, I am quite sufficiently drunk.” Though I’ve touted the wonders of stumbling home by foot in a state of inebriation, I must say that at 2:00 a.m., the roads are much longer and more ominous for this Colonist who is unaccustomed to the very late or early hours without a car to lock, and to being vulnerable. My father, no doubt, would say, “You have to be careful – you’re a foreigner and people take advantage of tourists…” (not that I consider myself a tourist per se).
I’ve tried to explain that we, in America – namely Los Angeles – live in fear of many things: bad neighborhoods, bad guys, gangs, rapists, carjackers, and dope fiends. It’s difficult to let down those familiar guards. So, I’ve erred to the side of caution and have called for a cab a few times. Yesterday, I was “sufficiently inebriated” and was going to call for a cab but Doug intervened and told me to save the £4; both he and Dionne walked my pathetic self home; I have to say in my own defense that I am sufficiently alive and well today due in large or small part to being escorted home. It is really quite safe here in Oxfordshire and on Cowley Road. There are some strange people who look down and out at times, and the occasional hoodlum hanging around, but relative to my experiences of the States, this would be your “really good neighborhood.”
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