Note Five
Richie called at about noon the next day, saying that he had just gotten out of bed and would be heading over to my place as soon as he took a shower and got dressed. A knock came on my door at around 1:00, and I opened it to find Richie, with his ever-present shaded glasses and wearing a green shirt and a hat.
"So, do you have any place in particular that you want to go to in London?" he asked.
"Well, really the one thing I wanted to see was St. Paul's Cathedral."
"Alright, then we need to head over to the City. Do you like sea animals?"
"Yeah, I always loved going to the zoo as a kid." "OK, then we can go to St. Paul's, then take the Blackfriars Bridge over the Thames and head over to the London Aquarium."
"Sounds good to me," I said as I grabbed my purse and camera.
"Oh, and from there we can take the Westminster Bridge and see the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, and Big Ben. Those are usually what people come to London to see."
"Yeah, absolutely, I have to go there. I want to go to some not so touristy places, though, too."
"Don't worry, I know plenty of those kind of places. I've got to take you to Soho and through Piccadilly Circus, which is on the way to Soho."
"Great. It sounds like a full day, though, do you have any other plans today?"
"No, Maureen and the kids are up in Liverpool for the next couple of days visiting with her mum and we don't have any studio time booked until tonight, so I'm free all day."
"Alright, then let's get going."
Outside of my apartment building we were met by a black Aston Martin with a driver ready to take us wherever we wished.
"We'd like to go to St. Paul's Cathedral first," Richie told the driver.
"Yes, sir," he answered politely back and began to pull away from the curb.
The weather couldn't have been more perfect for a day of sightseeing. It was about 80 degrees and sunny, with just enough of a breeze to make the warm weather comfortable. On the way to the Cathedral I snapped a few pictures through my lowered window, just to capture the streets of London and the buildings in the City. Once we arrived at the Cathedral, I was amazed at the shear size of it. The dome was absolutely huge and everything about the architecture of the building seemed to emit history. I took plenty of pictures of the outside of it, along with a few inside, as Richie and I took a quick self-guided tour of the huge inner halls. From there we headed to the London Aquarium. We had to take a bridge over the Thames to get to the Aquarium, so I made sure to get some pictures of the famous river while we had a good view. At the Aquarium we saw many different varieties of fish and other sea life, including squid, snails, dolphins, seals, and even a few whales.
"So, how does this compare to your hometown?" Richie asked as we walked.
"Well, there's nothing like this in my hometown, but Chicago's nearby and has an aquarium somewhat similar to this," I replied.
"How far away do you live from Chicago?"
"Oh, about 45 minutes to an hour away. Well, you've been to Chicago a couple times, what did you think?"
"God, don't ask me. I've only ever been there on tour, so my only opinion of Chicago comes from the hotel we stayed at and the buildings we could see out our windows. The hotel was nice, though."
"Yeah, I keep forgetting that even though you've traveled all over the world, you probably didn't get to see much of the places you were performing at."
"Yeah, not really. It's kind of like when you go on holiday and you drive to wherever you're going: you don't really pay attention to all the little cities in between your home and your destination. The whole tour is like a big road trip, but you never really get anywhere."
"I guess that's why you all decided to stop touring."
"That's one of the reasons, yeah. Plus all that screaming was getting to be a bit much."
For a few moments we walked past the tanks in the aquarium in silence.
"Well, I know that you're in college, but you never mentioned what you're majoring in," Richie said finally.
"Technically I'm majoring in English, but I have no idea where that will lead me."
"You don't know what you want to do after college?"
"No, not really. I had an undecided major my freshman year, but at my college they really want you to declare a major by your sophomore year, especially if they're giving you a large scholarship, like me. So, since I had to make a decision, I figured that English was vague enough that I could find some kind of career that was related to it."
"Well, you're more focused than I was at your age. When I was 20 I was busy playing in local bands, I didn't really have a job and I had no plans on going back to school since I had done so badly at it before."
"But you were focused. You knew that you wanted to play the drums for a living, so you went out and played with a lot of bands. In fact, didn't you play with the top Liverpool band before joining the Beatles?"
"Yeah, they were the top band before the Beatles got really good."
"So, see, you knew what you wanted to do. I'm just going to school because it's what my parents want me to do. I know that it will benefit me eventually, but right now it seems kind of useless."
"Oh, don't worry, you'll figure out what you want to do eventually, and I'm sure you'll be great at it," Richie said reassuringly as he put his arm around me.
"Thanks," I responded with a smile.
After a couple hours at the aquarium we hopped back into the Aston Martin waiting patiently outside and began the short trip to the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, and Big Ben. We pretty much just drove past the Houses of Parliament, although I did get out of the car briefly to take a picture, because there wasn't much to see besides the outside of the building. Almost next door to the Houses of Parliament was Big Ben. Luckily we got there just minutes before five o'clock, so we were able to hear the huge clock chime. Richie told me that Big Ben was actually the name of the bell that chimes the hours, not the clock itself. From there we were in eyesight of Westminster Abbey, which was just as beautiful as St. Paul's, although in a much different way. It was much older than St. Paul's and it showed in the architecture. Inside we saw the tombs of Chaucer, Isaac Newton, and Charles Darwin, along with others. Also inside were many statues and monuments honoring political leaders of the past. In the Poet's Corner we saw tributes to famous writers, including Shakespeare. The Abbey was just so completely British, with its age and the people it honored, that I knew I was seeing something completely unique.
After we left Westminster Abbey, we gave our driver an hour and a half off while we walked to St. James's Park. Richie and I stopped at the cafeteria at the park and got sandwiches and chips for dinner. We sat by the lake that was in the middle of the park while we ate and watched the ducks swim by. A few people walked by and did a bit of a double take when seeing Richie, but no one completely recognized him and stopped. Gazing at the lake, I couldn't believe my luck. There I was, a girl from Indiana, sitting in St. James's Park in London, England, eating a sandwich with Ringo Starr, who turned out to be one of the nicest people I'd ever met. I took a piece of bread from my sandwich and threw it on the ground near a small group of birds that had gathered nearby. They quickly gobbled up the bread, then seemed to look over at me for more. I gladly tore off another piece of bread and threw it towards them, this time a little nearer to myself. They seemed to argue over who got to eat it and I laughed as they fought. One bird got a bit too bold, though, and flew past me while trying to grab the remains of my sandwich with his beak. I shrieked as I felt his sharp beak brush against my hand and looked over at Richie who was nearly doubled over laughing.
"It seems you've made a few friends," he said, still laughing.
"Yeah, I guess so," I replied, as I looked at the growing crowd of birds coming closer to me.
"Come on, let's get out of here before they attack!" Richie said as he quickly gathered up his things.
"Now you see why I wasn't feeding the birds," he remarked once we were safely away from the hungry birds.
"You could have warned me, you know," I replied, pretending to be hurt.
"Oh, but it was much more fun to see you squirm."
"You're lucky! I could've gotten seriously hurt by that bird."
"Aw, poor thing almost got attacked by a pigeon. Let's see that battle wound, there," he said, motioning towards my hand.
"Ha ha, very funny," I replied sarcastically as I showed him my hand.
"Now that's barely a scratch. I've done worse while playing me drums."
"Still, just a couple inches closer and he would've gotten some skin in that beak," I said half jokingly.
I noticed Richie looking around a bit uncomfortably at that point. We had drawn some attention to ourselves with the crowd of birds and I could tell by the pointing and whispering that Richie had been recognized by several people.
"Come 'ead, it's getting a bit crowded over here, and we've got to meet our driver in a couple minutes," Richie said as he began to walk towards the edge of the park.
We had told the driver that we would meet him by the Guards Memorial, so we stood by it for a few minutes while we waited for the familiar black Aston Martin to come into sight. Once we got into the car, we headed towards Regent Street and Piccadilly Circus. I knew we had gotten to Piccadilly when Richie pointed out the neon signs and a fairly large statue called Eros. From there we drove to Carnaby Street and hopped out of the car to walk by the many stores. We stopped in a few, and I ended up buying a skirt that Richie insisted looked great on me, although I thought it was a little too short. Upon walking out of a store, it began to pour rain, so we frantically waived down our car and ran inside it before we were completely soaked.
"Well, it looks like any outdoor sightseeing is out of the question for awhile. How about seeing a movie?" he asked.
"That sounds dry, let's go."
We drove to the nearest movie theater and when we looked at the show times, saw that the only movie playing in the next 20 minutes was a foreign film.
"We could try to find another theater," Richie suggested.
"No, let's see the foreign film. I've never seen a movie with subtitles."
"Alright then, let's just hope it's a decent translation."
It turned out to be a French film, and a rather boring French film, so Richie kept me entertained with his pathetic attempt at a French accent while he mocked the actors. The theater was pretty empty, so we only really annoyed the one couple that was in the same row as we were. They kept giving us dirty looks, but that only made Richie talk in his French accent even louder.
"These people paid money to see this movie, you know," I whispered to Richie while stifling a laugh.
"Ah yes, but zee film, it is so boring! I should go and demand my monies back from zee manager of zis filthy theater!"
I couldn't respond to that; I just did my best to keep from laughing too loudly.
"Come, don't you agree with me, zat zis is zee worst film ever created?" he asked, still with a French accent.
Oh, what the hell, I thought, it's just two people, and I'll never see them again.
"Oui, zer is no denying that zis film on zee screen is absolutely terrible!" I replied, making my own pitiful attempt at a French accent.
"I must say, I am ashamed of my fellow countrymen for making such a horrendous film. Zey are worse than Americans!"
"And even worse than zee British!" I exclaimed with a smirk.
"I take offense at zis remark! My moth-air was half British, so when you insult zee British, you insult my family!" Richie replied, with his French-laden voice echoing against the theater walls.
"Zee British are filthy, dishonest, and stupid, and so is your moth-air!" I shouted back equally as loud.
"You have disgraced my relatives and my moth-air, and now I must take revenge!" Richie said with a twinkle in his blue eyes as he stood up to show his "anger."
Just then a large-framed usher with a flashlight came into the theater and into the row Richie and I were in.
"Excuse me, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave," he said very officially.
"And what, leetle boy, will you do if I refuse?" Richie shot back, still in character.
"I'll escort you out myself," he responded seriously, loosening the bow tie on his uniform.
Richie, seeing that the usher meant business, prepared to leave, but didn't drop the accent.
"Fine, I am glad to leave zis theater. It is probably owned by filthy Americans! Come, Maria, let us leave zis place with its terrible movie."
The very business-like usher followed us up the aisle and all the way to the door to make sure we actually left. As we walked down the sidewalk away from the movie theater, Richie and I looked back and saw the usher watching us through the window with a fierce expression, as if to warn us not to dare come back.
"I can't believe you got us kicked out!" I told Richie with a playful shove.
"Hey, you're the one who insulted 'zee British'," he replied with a grin.
"True, but only because you made a snide comment about Americans."
"I couldn't resist, though. It was too perfect. Besides, Americans are filthy," he said smiling.
"You realize now that you've turned us both into hoodlums."
"Yeah, but at least I've got my innocent Beatle persona to hide behind."
"Hey, I'll have you know that 'Beatle persona' isn't so innocent anymore!"
"So, they've finally found me out?" he replied with a fiendish grin.
"Well, no one can know how truly evil you are," I shot back sarcastically.
"If they did it would be the end of us all!" he replied dramatically.
We flagged down our driver a couple of blocks away and ran to meet him, for the rain was starting to get heavier. We got into the car just in time, too, because a group of teenage girls had just spotted Richie and were running in our direction.
"Let's go!" Richie told the driver.
"Where are you headed now?" the driver asked.
"Anywhere, just as long as we get out of here before those bloody birds attack the car," he replied, looking out the rear window.
"Well, where are we going?" I asked once we were a safe distance away from the girls.
"Well, actually, I need to make a call to see what the plans are for tonight, so if you don't mind, could we head back to your flat so I can use your telephone?"
"Yeah, sure, that's fine."
So we headed north, back to my apartment. The gloomy weather, coupled with the motion of the car and the fact that I was still adjusting to London time, made me very drowsy, and I began to nod off on the way home. I woke up once we were in front of my apartment building, half expecting to find that I had dreamed up the entire day. I looked over to happily see Richie sitting next to me, confirming that that I had indeed not been dreaming. We ran inside to the lobby, for it was still raining fairly heavily. Once we were inside my apartment, I showed Richie where the phone was and went to change into a dry shirt. From the bedroom, I couldn't help but hear Richie talking in the living room.
"Hey Paul. What's going on tonight? Alright, but what about me and George? Well, you tell me, should we come in? OK, yeah, that's fine. Does George know? I'll call him then. No, I'm pretty close; I should be there in about ten minutes. Alright, see you there."
I could then hear him hang up the phone, then dial another number.
"George, I just talked to Paul and he thought we should come in. I know, but he said John mentioned something about helping with mixing and recording some voices. I don't know what the hell he's doing; it's with her, so it could be anything. If you have other plans, I don't think it would be a problem if you didn't come. Yeah, that's fine, I'll just tell John you'll come in later. You're right, he probably won't notice, he never does when he's with her. Well, who the hell invited her into the band? Yeah, well I thought it was an equal democracy. Yeah, I'll see you sometime this week then. Bye."
I walked out just as he ended his second conversation. He let out an uneasy sigh as he placed the receiver down.
"Is everything alright?" I asked.
"Yeah . . . well, not really." He looked down at the floor for a moment. "Listen, you can't tell anyone any of this, but we started recording a couple weeks ago and things aren't exactly working out. John's acting different and everyone's recording in separate studios, no one's working together. I'm hoping we're just going through a bit of a rough period and that this will all pass."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I had no idea you were all having trouble," I replied, seeing that he was genuinely upset.
"It turns out I have to go into the studio tonight, so I'm afraid I have to end our day here."
"That's fine. I'm still getting used to the time difference, so I'm probably just going to go to bed."
"Alright, luv. I still want to take you to a club, though, so I'll call you sometime this week and we'll go out."
"Great. Thank you for a wonderful day," I said as I walked him to the door.
"You're very welcome. I enjoyed it just as much."
I opened the door and before he walked out, he kissed me on the cheek and said good-bye. I felt my face turn red at the unexpected sign of affection.
"Good-bye," I said as he walked down the hall.
I spent the rest of the evening just sitting around watching TV and listening to the radio. Every time a Beatles song came on over the speakers, I smiled and listened particularly to the drum part. Occasionally my thoughts wandered to Richie and what he might be doing at that moment. I felt a little sorry for him, in the studio with a group of people who were his best friends who were now not getting along.
"I wonder why John's acting different," I thought aloud. "Maybe it has something to do with her, whoever she is. I should call Joe and have him ask one of his girl friends, they would probably know. Those teeny-bopper magazines always know things before anyone else!"
I went to bed early that night, worn out from the very busy day. I saw my camera on the nightstand and made a note to myself to get the film developed the next day. As I fell asleep, my thoughts drifted back to Richie in the studio. I hope he's not too miserable, I thought. I hope he calls me tomorrow . . .
Written by Blackbird. May not be reproduced in any form, by any means, without the permission of the author. Permission may be obtained by e-mail.