I arrived in London on Monday. That feels like a month ago. Between the Vikings' appearances and practices, the intrigue surrounding the quarterback position, some sightseeing and pub-visiting and cobblestone-treading, this has felt like a very long week.
A pleasant, interesting, long week. It's strange to be in a place where I don't feel the need to read every last bit of the sports section or turn on the ``telly." It's strange to be six hours ahead of Minneapolis time. It's strange, mostly, to be in an English-speaking country where I'm jealous of another form of English.
Our bus hostess' accent sounds a bit like a British woman imitating Jon Stewart imitating the Queen of England. At dinner last night, we sat next to a table of Brits who seemed to be celebrating some sort of reunion. I understood even the portions of their conversation I couldn't understand.
My favorite experience of the week might be listening to our Chip Scoggins, who has retained his Tennessee accent, trying to communicate with Brits, who immediately call for a translator.
During the Olympics, we stayed in slightly more working-class neighborhood. There were fewer good restaurants, and I made fun of the quality of food.
It's all about location. We're staying in a more upper-crust neighborhood on this trip, and the food has been excellent,
Today, the Vikings will make an appearance at a block party in PIccadilly Circus, and then there will be no more access or appearances until the game.
I'm ready to see a game.
