Chapter 8
We left Harvey Nic's and I led Alex on a short walk to The Stand Comedy Club. This quirky and long-running, underground club was situated just around the corner of Queen Street, right next door to the National Portrait Gallery.
Inside the busy club, we bought some tickets for seven pounds each, grabbed a free table in the corner, and ordered some more alcohol. It was a nice break from all the talking and walking we'd been doing in the past few hours, although I still wanted to ask Alex, another thousand and one, different questions. But not now. Now was the time to chill out, kick back, relax, and enjoy the comedy.
Three acts were scheduled to play this night and I found two of them quite amusing. I particularly laughed my ass off at the toilet humour of the second comedian and his movie star impersonations from the likes of Robert De Niro to Christopher Walken and Hugh Grant. The third act, in my opinion, wasn't so great. A group of three, student actors dove into the world of improvised comedy. Alex enjoyed this act most of all, mainly because they were all Americans. She could understand them a lot easier than the two, previous, Scottish acts with their strong Glaswegian and Aberdonian accents, and because the improv group performed a lot of physical comedy. I didn't care which one she enjoyed more than the other, just so long as she enjoyed herself.
The gig came to a close by ten p.m. We left the club and started walking back along and up through St. Andrews Square, which eventually led us down onto Princes Street and towards the imposing and haunting Sir Walter Scott Monument. Alex took this time to message the couch-surfing students she'd been staying with. They had given her a key to their apartment, so she could come and go as she pleased, which I thought was extremely trusting of them. She confessed though that she'd been having such a good time in my company and had been feeling so comfortable and extremely at ease with me that she didn't mind staying out for a few hours longer. She just didn't know how to explain this to her hosts, not wishing to appear rude.
Instead, she messaged them a little white lie about how she'd randomly bumped into an old friend of hers from Czech and would stay out with her for a while longer. Meanwhile, as she used her phone to send her messages, I began searching my pockets for my own phone which I couldn't find anywhere.
Then I realised that my friend had it. Jesus Christ, Alex had distracted me so much from the real world today that I totally forgot all about why I was in Leith this morning. I had accidentally dropped my phone down the toilet last night, while stupidly texting and taking a leak at the same time. What an idiot! My electrician friend, who's pretty damn handy at fixing phones, told me to drop it off to him this morning, which I did before jumping on the bus back to Nicolson Street. In the meantime, I was supposed to buy a cheap replacement. But after meeting Alex on the bus, that had all gone to the wind. It had now become the last thing on my mind.
And then there was Rebecca. Shit! How the hell did I forget about her? She'd be worried, too, that she hadn't heard from me since I dropped my phone down the lavvy last night. I didn't care though. She was out of the country. I could deal with her tomorrow. At this moment, I'd put her in the back of my mind. This moment, this magical day spent with Alex, just walking and talking and being together, had made me feel so alive than ever in my entire life. I didn't want it to end. I owed it to myself and my mundane, monotonous life to see where the hell the rest of this wonderful, crazy, fairy-tale day would end up. I would deal with the consequences later. If there were indeed any to be had.
“All done; messages sent. I'm staying oot with you for a wee while longer, pal.”
We both chuckled at Alex's cute attempt at the Scottish dialect. Now I felt the time was right to continue my conversation with her about our lives. I wanted to know so much more about her. It's not that I didn't trust her. I did. I just felt that she might be holding one or two things back from me, about her own life and motives of being in Edinburgh.
“So tell me, why did you decide to come to Edinburgh for only two days?”
“Actually, I've been in Scotland for almost two weeks now.”
Jesus! Two weeks. That took me by surprise. I just assumed she had come straight to Edinburgh from Czech.
“Really? So where else have you been during these past few weeks?”
“Well, I spent a few days in Aberdeen, Inverness, Loch Ness and Fort William, The Isle of Skye, Glasgow, Stirling, and now, finally, Edinburgh.”
“Christ. You've seen more of the country than I have. So where's your favourite place in Scotland so far? And don't say Weegie Wonderland.”
Alex stared at me, confused and with a big what-the-hell look plastered all over her face.
“Weegie Wonder-what?”
“Sorry.” I laughed. “Sometimes, I just forget I'm not actually speaking to a local. Weegie Wonderland. It's just a term used by Edinburgh folk to describe Glaswegian people.”
Alex smiled, finally understanding.
“Or we sometimes call Glasgow the Soap Dodger City, too.”
Alex snickered, completely baffled. “Soap Dodger-what?”
“Aye. If New York is The City That Never Sleeps, then Glasgow is The City That Never Washes.”
Alex laughed even more. “Are you trying to say that Glasgow is a very smelly city?”
“Smelly is putting it kindly. But in Glasgow they like to refer to Edinburgh as The Second Capital of England, since there are so many English people living, working, and studying here. They also call us The Unfriendly City too. According to them, nobody would stop to give you directions here if you needed them.”
“Well, I did okay on that front, no?” Alex replied with a wink.
“Aye, you did. But it doesn't count since you're not a local.”
“Well, I think Glasgow is a very beautiful city and I loved her dearly, just as much as I adore Edinburgh and Aberdeen and Inverness.”
I couldn't let that statement slide though and had to push it further. I had to know that she thought Edinburgh was the best, even if it meant teasing the hell out of her to get her to admit it.
“But if you had to pick one? Just one.”
“I could not.”
“Not even if your life depended on it?”
“I could not decide this instant. I would have to wait until the end of my journey.”
“But where have you had the most fun so far?” I persisted with a teasing grin and sly wink of my own. Alex let out a cheeky smile and made a zipping gesture with her fingers over her lips.
“Fair enough.”
We'd just about reached the National Gallery, almost halfway along Princes Street. Here, we turned to the left and proceeded to walk back along the path beside the two galleries and towards the steep staircase, the Playfair steps, that led up to the top of The Mound and over the railway tracks branching out of the dark, rocky tunnels beneath Waverly Station.
“So it is a safe bet to say that Edinburgh is your favourite city, then?” asked Alex.
“Of course. I mean, look at her. She is just so bloody damn beautiful and breath-taking, no?” I began pointing around, up at the splendid and hauntingly-lit-up castle, towards the blurry evening lights of Princes Street, the Gothic Walter Scott Monument behind us, the beautifully lit Balmoral Hotel with its famous clock tower—freakishly similar to Big Ben down in Old London Town, then at the shadow of Calton Hill beyond it and the dimly-lit gardens in front, and, finally, the North Bridge to our distant side and beyond.
“She is a true work of genius art—a city of complete inspiration. You know, some days, I love nothing better than just walking out of my flat every morning and being confronted and surrounded by this delightful scenery. I love it! This city is just so...'
I paused, trying to find the right expression, the right words. Well, I knew the right words but I hesitated for Alex's sake as I didn't wish to make her feel nervous with my outburst. It took only a second though to figure what the hell it was and finish that sentence.
“...fucking inspirational!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. Alex looked a little stunned at my outburst, but was soon giggling at my passionate display. I started laughing, too, at how ridiculous I must have sounded.
“I always believed that if Edinburgh were a woman then she would be my most perfect woman in the whole wide world, my one true love. And all these other cities that I've travelled to, all over the world, well, they would be as my mistresses. And the more time I spent away from her, my Edinburgh, with these other average mistresses, then the more I'd soon realise just how much I missed her awe-inspiring charms and that she was the perfect one for me after all, and I should come racing back, just as soon as possible and claim her as my wife.”
“Ha! If she would still have you after all your whoring around,” Alex quipped. “But then why even go travelling at all, and see what else is out there, if you already know she is the perfect city for you?”
“Because, you still need to know, right? You still have to see what else is out there. See and meet as many of these other cities and places as you possibly can just to realise what you're missing in the first place. You need to discover for yourself if there is something better for you, waiting out there in the wilderness of adventures, waiting for you to come and claim it. For some people there is...”
“But not for you?”
“No, not anymore. Everything I want right now, right this very second. Well, it's right here inside this damn fine city.”
Alex let out a shy, flirtatious grin. If it wasn't so dark around then I could’ve sworn she was blushing, too.
“Oh, it is, isn’t it? Everything you want, right here.”
She stood now with her arms folded, still wearing that feigned frown upon her face. I wanted to kiss her so badly again, but she suddenly turned from me and began walking away before I could even accomplish my latest spontaneous move.
“Shall we walk some more?” Alex called after me.
I bit my lip and followed after her until we were walking side by side.
“So why did you come to Scotland, anyhow, of all places, and all by yourself?” I asked, surely it wasn't all because of what her father had told her about the place.
“Well,” Alex briefly paused, “to be myself, I suppose? Plus, it was cheaper for me to get here than to Paris or New York. And I always remembered that my father had such fond memories of this city in particular.”
I felt Alex's answer was a bit imprecise and very hesitant like she was holding something back. I didn't know whether to push this or not, or if I even had enough trust and comfort with her to do so. If I was sober then I probably wouldn't have pushed it at all, but I still felt a little tipsy from the few drinks we had shared this evening.
“Did something happen to you back in Czech?”
Alex paused and kept her head down. She looked both agitated and guarded. Finally, she replied. “If you don't mind, Ryan, I do not wish to talk about this. It's a little personal to me right now.”
Shit. It sounded like there had been something appalling playing on her mind. But as curious as I'd become, I respected her wishes. I would leave whatever personal baggage she had stored inside her head and not mention another word of it until she had decided to bring it up herself. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin this almost perfect day and evening by forcing her to spill any bad shit that had happened.
“Of course. Absolutely. Mum’s the word.”
I took Alex by the hand and she lifted her head toward me, smiling warmly. Without words, I led her up the steep, grey, stone staircase behind the galleries and up toward the top of The Mound, which eventually would take us back up onto The Royal Mile. As we came to The Mile crossroads, where Bank Street joined with George the Fourth Bridge, with The Royal Mile High Street cutting right through the two, forming gorgeous and charming cobbled crossroads, our attention was pleasantly diverted to a large gathering of people around the northwest side of St. Giles Cathedral.
We could hear one man's voice booming above the rest as he informed the dozen-strong crowd about ghastly ghouls and wicked criminals who dwelled in this area, once upon a time, hundreds of years ago. I knew right away this was a ghost tour.
“What are all those people doing over there?” Alex enquired as we proceeded down the High Street toward them.
“I think they're on a ghost tour.”
Alex's eyes glistened with intrigue. She glanced at her watch.
“At this hour? But it is almost at eleven p.m.”
“Yeah, it's a late night tour. In the summer, they run right up until one o'clock in the morning sometimes. They're really popular.”
“Can we take a look?”
“Yeah, but I think it's already in full swing.”
“That is a shame,” replied Alex with a disappointed sigh.
“But,” I said with a devilish glee, “if we wait just around the corner of the Cathedral, right at the back of the crowd, I think we could, in fact, just tag along with the group. Kind of naughty, indeed.”
Alex flashed a sly grin.
“I like that idea. I think we should be really bad, mingle with the crowd and see what happens.”
“Yeah. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? We play the dumb, no-a speak-a-the English-a tourist card and if they pull us up for not paying, then we pay.”
Alex interlocked her arm with mine and snuggled against me. We wickedly grinned at one another before walking close to the side of the Cathedral, subtly sneaking into the back of the tourist, ghost-tour crowd. It was adamantly dark around the Cathedral walls, with the tour guide being so engrossed in his own story-telling act and the captivated crowd hanging on his every word, that our plan worked seamlessly. Nobody noticed us tagging along at all.