I am the Generalissimo!

We rode the Tube back to Heathrow. Not even the Generalissimo’’s “friendship” with the Queen could keep us from being expelled from the country. The cops never took their eyes off us until we boarded the plane. A representative from the U.S. Embassy stayed with us until our seatbelts were tight. The plane’’s door sealed after he left.

We were in an emergency exit row, which meant plenty of legroom and a television monitor on a swing-arm that wouldn’’t stay up. The flight attendant tried to tape it in place, but that didn’’t hold for very long.

(more…)

We’’d been staying half a block away from the Tate Britain for nearly a week without going inside. So I did. Then I left. For such a large building, they really didn’’t have much. Reminded me of a car dealership going out of business: only a few cars, forty or so employees wandering around with nothing to do besides pester the few customers, and plenty of parking.

I went back to the hotel and gathered the Generalissimos. Our flight wasn’’t until later that evening, so we thought it’’d be nice to take a stroll near Green Park. And by we, I meant they.

(more…)

I woke up in my hotel room. No one had burst in during the night. Four uniform-wearing oddballs hadn’’t broken in to watch me sleep. No one had pulled the fire alarm to, as el Capitán put it, ““Test this fine establishment’s preparedness for battle!””

I got up. Took a shower (which at the City Inn is the equivalent of a roller coaster ride the way the pressure and temperature fluctuated without my input). Watched a little Top Gear. Hit the pub for a solo breakfast. Held myself to two undisturbed pints for once.

Then I went back to my room.

(more…)

After a quick breakfast (at the pub— again) we set off. We got in line behind the other tourists and waited.

““Westminster Abbey!”” the Generalissimo said. The people near us in line took an instinctive step back. “”Only a precious few who have been offered eternal sanctuary here declined it! Winston Churchill! Florence Nightingale! And of course, the Generalissimo!””

(more…)

The Generalissima was spending the day with some of her flight school pals at an “undisclosed location.” The Capitáns wanted to see a display of post-war propaganda comics at the Cartoon Museum. Which left me to chaperone the Generalissimo.

“It will be grand! Two hip bachelors! Out on the town!”

Neither of us was a bachelor, but confusing him ran the risk of spending an hour or two listening to him try and convince me otherwise.

(more…)

Do you ever wake up, convinced the dream you were just having was real? That your emergence into consciousness is simply a continuation of what you’ve been experiencing in dreamland?

Happened to me that morning. I’d been dreaming about the Generalissimo, his counterpart, and a hundred of their loony friends. At some point I’d gone to lay my head down while they played Twister in my room. Then I opened my eyes. And there they were. In my room. Beyond the locked door with the security bolt securely in place.

“Wakey, wakey!” the Generalissimo cried. Worst alarm clock ever. “We are burning daylight!”

(more…)

I knocked on their door at ten sharp. The Generalissima let me in. She’d changed into what I like to think of as her lounge wear: jeans and a frilly white blouse with a plunging neckline not usually seen outside of bad porn. The Generalissimo was on the bed, asleep, in his jeans and jacket, topped off with his eponymous jacket and the helmet. And of course, the mustache.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” I asked.

“What! When! Where!” The Generalissimo leapt out of bed, head jerking side to side as he searched for danger.

“It’s just me, sir. You can relax.”

“Indeed?”

(more…)

“You should come! It will be glorious!”

He had to be kidding. Much as I wanted to take an all expenses paid trip to London, the last thing I wanted to do was spend the week with him.

“And the Generalissima will be accompanying us! You two don’t spend enough time together! She’s been meaning to speak to you about that!”

Goody.

Which is how I found myself on a non-stop flight from Seattle to London on British Airways. The Generalissima was nowhere to be found. The Generalissimo took the window seat, and I took the aisle. The open spot between us was actually his seat, but he liked watching the clouds and telling me what they looked like.

(more…)