Liz Taylor, we'd like to introduce you to Jackie Collins...

Tuesday we really started to pick up steam. We kicked off the day by taking one of London's famed double decker bus tours. Mike the tour guide (We loved your snarky asides that no one else on the bus seemed to get) was gracious enough to let us get on the mic and ask the passengers if any of them could introduce us to Richard Branson. Blank stares all around. I made a lame joke about being an American. I actually heard someone cough in the ensuing silence.

From there we jumped back in the car for our 10 minute ride to Kensington. An hour and a half later we arrived, with Chet needing a Valium and me 150 pounds poorer from purchasing a GPS that won't connect to the satellite.


After finding Virgin's old offices we made our way to the new ones. Once we confirmed the location we moved on. We are taking the approach that, much like a vampire, we cannot enter unless invited.


From here things started to get a little weird. I arm wrestled a Bulgarian street cleaner. He was a very lovely and strong gentleman. We might have got him fired, so I feel very bad about that. Then we jogged with an Italian named Marco. Insert your own Marco Polo pool joke here. After that we found ourselves at http://www.simplypleasures.com/ , a sex toy store. We chatted with Joseph, a dude sitting out front reading what seemed to be something very academic, not at all what you think one would be reading sitting in front of http://www.simplypleasures.com/ . I would like to thank the lovely Wren for showing us around and being completely professional as Chet and I turned into 14 year old boys holding up massive dildos and ball gags.


From there we headed next door to The Albion pub http://www.downthealbion.com/ . The owners, brothers Chris and Phil couldn't have been cooler. Chris realized that Richard Branson owned a private restaurant not too far away called Kensington Roof Garden. He called over there and let them know some "Famous American Comedians" were in town and needed a table. The truth is an elastic thing.

Before we left we met Angus. Is there a better name for a man than Angus? I think not. He hooked us up with his friend Paula who owns http://www.girlsontheground.com/ , who hooked us up with tickets to Royal Ascot on Wednesday, an event Mr. Branson was rumoured to be attending. Good people these Brits.

Dinner. Enjoying ourselves immensely when someone I and everybody in the place recognizes walks in. I quickly point her out to Chet and Chris:

"Check it out, that's Liz Taylor".

After some careful observation Chet corrected me:

"No it's not. That's Jackie Collins. She was on the show Dallas in the '80's."

This nonsense went on back and forth for awhile until our waiter politely corrected us that it was in fact Joan Collins. Whoops. So we sent her over a bottle of wine, and she waved back. I wonder when they will do a new version of Dallas? When they do, I hope they re imagine it and turn it into something dark and futuristic like they did for Battlestar Galactica. I'm getting off topic.

Shots of tequila, which we did not know were tequila, were sent over to us by some other Americans. Yes, we Americans know how to class up a joint.

Finished up and headed back to the Albion. Who do we see? Marco the Italian runner! Good times all around, with Brother Phil putting pints in front of us, long after the place closed. Phil and Chris, this is a serious offer, let's open an Improv Asylum in London. You guys run the bar, we'll handle the show. Who's with me?

Finished the night crashing at the hotel. Two twin beds mashed together for Chet and I, a nest of comforters and pillows on the floor for our wee lad Chris. All and all a pretty remarkable day, with so many wonderful people willing to help out. Mr. Branson, I'd recommend you hire all of these people. They would make Virgin proud. Especially the Bulgarian. Man that guy was strong.