Grey's Journal

Oz

July 4th to July 11th

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I happened to be in St. James's park one morning (feeding the birds like an old man) at the right time, so I hopped over to Buckingham Palace to see the changing of the guard.

It is grossly misnamed. The hour-long event is 60% standing around, 40% musical serenade, and 0% guard changing.

I waited outside the main palace gate with about 300 other people and had the misfortune of being stuck behind the only tall Japanese tourist in the crowd.

There were six guards at the front of the palace. These are the guards people spend a lot of time trying to get to move. If I were to try, I would tell them jokes. Everything is much funnier when you are not allowed to laugh. Some day when I'm bored and feeling like a jerk, I'll give it a try.

The guards themselves look rather silly. They have those large, black fur hats (called bearskins) that make me think of the gatekeeper of Oz. The hats provide the illusion of covering their eyes like the hair on shaggy dogs. They also wear bright red vests that my history teacher said made them easy to shoot in the woods during the Revolutionary War.


British Guard	Shaggy Dog

However, there was nothing silly about their guns. With their historical outfits, I was expecting an equally historical musket -- a powder horn on their belt should more than a single shot be required. Instead they had automatic machine guns with a nasty looking bayonet fixed to the end.

A trumpet sounded. What I incorrectly assumed to be the replacement guards came marching through the front gates. In the crowd, one out of five people held a video camera above their head and aimed it at the approaching entourage. Unable to see over everyone's head, they watched the procession on the little camera screen. I couldn't help but smirk. (And watch)

Somewhere behind me, a little girl on her mother's shoulders was providing a similar function by narrating the event for her.

"OK Mom, they're marching... marching... OK they've stopped... they're turning... someone's yelling something... marching..."

I'm sure both this narration, and the video camera method, are just as good as seeing the event yourself.

Then came the standing. The guards marched inside the front gate, joined formation, and stood there. Five minutes later, they were ordered to turn their heads left. Five more minutes. Back to center. Ten minutes later. March to a different position. It was dull and the weather was uncomfortably hot. I almost left. But, I thought, I can't write about the changing of the guards without seeing the guards change, so I stayed. Little did I know.

All at once, the rigid order was broken, and the guards formed a standing band. For a moment, it was a high school assembly. The guards tried to secretly talk to each other and quickly grab a music stand. The last sucker was left with the wobbly one. His tuba prevented him from moving swiftly enough.

The guard/conductor signaled for the band to begin. I was expecting something serious. The Star Wars imperial march perhaps, or at least the "Ooh-EE--Ohh" of the Oz guards they so resembled. Instead, I was treated to a disappointingly cheery and upbeat composition of songs I couldn't quite place. I think they were show tunes.

After the musical serenade, the guards packed up, joined a formation, and marched out. The crowd began to dissipate. I stood my ground and reread the sign. Changing of the Guard: 11.30. I didn't see any guards change. Not one. The same guys who were standing there an hour ago, were standing there still.

I was going to write about how annoyed I was for being in the sun for 60 minutes and not witnessing a guard change. But, since then, I think I've figured these crafty British out.

It's the Wizard of Oz.

The British are doing this changing of the guard masquerade to distract people. It's the old pay-no-attention-to-the-man-behind-the-curtain routine. There is something going on at Buckingham Palace between 11:30 and 12:30 everyday that they don't want you to see. So, they stage this huge event. The event where you finally get to see the guards move.

Everyone is concentrating so hard on watching these guards that no one is paying attention to the real (secret) reason for the show. Next time I'm at the palace around 11:30, I am going to try and catch them at whatever it is they are doing. I'm going to find the man behind the curtain. I'm going to look everywhere but at the guards. I'll go around to the back. I'll watch the windows for secret signals. I'm on to them.

That, or I just wasn't paying attention when the guards changed.

I like my first theory better.

* * *

Lets talk about money for a moment. It disappears quickly in London. By rough account, I have been here 12 days. During this time, I made myself about $650 (£400) poorer. That's a burn rate of £34 ($54) a day. Though there were a few pricey items (wireless card, T-shirts for the girlfriend -- who hates when I call her 'the girlfriend'), in general, I have been rather thrifty with my expenditures. A day pass on the underground costs £4.10 ($6.56). So that leaves an average of £29.90 ($47.84) for food and tourist stuff. Looking back, I cannot believe I have spent that much.

This concern over money leads me to next week's goal: get a job.

There is, however, a little problem. Since I am going to be attending graduate school in two months, the only jobs I can get are part-time. I have the unsettling feeling that there are not many part-time jobs I can get now that I could not have gotten without my college degrees. The only place I would really like to work is the National Science Museum. When I was there, I asked the attractive French girl at the information desk (after passing right by the male assistant at a closer desk) how to go about getting a job. She told me to send in my CV (what they call a resume here) with a cover letter. I've been trying to write that cover letter all week, but no matter what I do, I feel it comes out sounding something like this:

Hello!

I would like to work at your museum because I was there once and thought it was cool. What are my qualifications, you ask? Well, a quick glance at my CV shows all sorts of impressive things, but cutting through the bullshit, you will see I have never had a real job. Ever.

So, in conclusion, please give me a fun job that pays well. Oh yeah, I can only work part time.

Did I mention I am a loud American?

-Wellington Grey

This is not really the impression I care to make.

I've sat down at my computer to write my cover letter many times and ended up reading the several hundred messages at the Harry Potter for Grownups message group. When I wake up from the computer induced stupor, I feel twice as badly for neither getting the cover letter done, nor doing something interesting in London.

Come hell or Harry Potter, I'm going to write it this weekend.

Wish me luck.

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