'Ack! You punched me in the eye!'

May 3rd...

Once up and ready to go, we jumped in Lucien's car, which needed a bit of a boost from the cleaner (God bless you, Sue), and went across to Madeleine's school, Bryn Mawr ('Big Mountain' in Welsh, apparently). She teaches 4th grade, which is 10 year olds I think. I was to be part of Show & Tell, as the pupils were doing projects of various countries around the world. I prepared for it by quickly researching why the UK drives on the left, as well as the recipe for haggis (sheep's heart, liver and lungs, cooked in it's own stomach; as tasty as it sounds...), and was therefore able to reel off little nuggets about home. I'm not too sure if they'd want me to be an ambassador. It was a really nice experience, with 30 sets of wide eyes staring up at me and asking if I'd ever been to Guatemala... Bryn Mawr is a private school, and they'd spent their money wisely. All the kids were on Apple computers... staggering.

Everybody likes chocolate, right? Well, I got paid for the privilege, and in the process possibly violating the terms of my stay. If any immigration officers are reading this, I was coerced into it.
It all happened (like the best things do) in the Mall. I was keen to see this fine American tradition, in the place of it's birth; apparently, the guy who designed Central Park in NY also designed America's first strip mall, right here in leafy Baltimore. I had a list of things to pick up, including Ipods, football cleats and Croc flip flops, so we bounced across to Towcson Mall and started shopping. At the mall, we were accosted by a kindly gentleman, who turned out to be a black version of Willy Wonka, offering us riches and chocolate. He invited us into his den, not far from where he accosted us. Once we were seated, he soon had to nip off to get the forms for the market research we were to conduct. I had feared that i would at some point on my travels, find myself in a windowless office being interviewed, by an official, but never did it cross my mind that it might be with regards to my preferences on chocolate. I had to pretend to be 35 in order to qualify take part in the survey: I am pleased to report that Mr Lucien failed to qualify at all, and had to watch, dolefully, as I enjoyed not one, but two sample sized bars of some kind of peanutty chocolate snack. I was skilfully guided by my interrogator as the answers that his paymasters desired, and we were done in 10 minutes. I was relieved, upon reading the form that i was asked to sign at the end, that i hadn't been tricked into joining the Marines, which i hear is a tactic that they are considering employing soon. I was dispatched out of the office, but not before i picked up the sum of $2 for my thoughts. Delightful.

After that, we headed on other to a sporting goods store to try and find some cleats for me. We met up with Lucien's uncle Mike, who guided us across the road to a Mexican restaurant were two things occurred:

1. We watched him eat an incredible amount of Mexican food, with running commentary on the spiciness of the food and forecasts of what said food would do to his digestive tract in the next 12 hours.
   
2. We saw one of that fattest men that i have ever seen. I was sadly unable to get photographic evidence, but be rest assured that the man was a veritable colossus. To our untrained eyes, the man looked like he could have cleared 550 lbs. Awesome.

Later that evening, Lucien's bud Troy invited us round for drinks and nibbles before heading off for a free concert hosted by a college radio station round the corner from where he lives. Sadly as we turned up 2 hours late (which would become something of a default setting for us), we missed the concert. However, the night was still young, and we went off a few blocks away to the Brewer's Art, where a few pints of something called Resurrection were enough to nearly do me in. Troy, dressed in under armour and board shorts (which, for a 250 lb guy, was surprisingly a good look for him), and now styling himself 'T-Roy', insisted we charge into the swanky bar nearby on the 13th floor of a nearby hotel. I was to gain us entry by being British and pretending to be a concert pianist. It seemed to work, and over a pricey round of drinks we were able to gaze out on the restrained majesty of the Baltimore skyline. I couldn't really take it, having temporarily lost my sight thanks to the ale at the previous bar.

After about an hour, we hit the road, and in our efforts to get Troy and his fiancee home, I sustained an injury, where upon he punched me in the eye. Admittedly, we were grappling at the time, and it is really my fault due to my not wearing of protective goggles. Troy's lawyers have asked me to write this; America really is a rather litigious society...

Hi buddy!