It’s late, post nightclubbing. Liam and I are walking the traffic-free roadway that passes by Kensington Palace and the fog is thick.
We’re talking 1960s Disney movie fake thick. Silent Hill thick. We literally cannot see 6 feet in front of us. We’re creeped out. We’ve seen fog before but not English fog. It’s suffocating.
Liam and I have a slight larger buzz going on and we’re singing to keep our spirits up. But of course, I have to be a bastard to Liam and I hush him with a hand on his shoulder. I look to the south and say “…did you hear that?”
“Fuck off, Ted,” Liam says.
Liam takes off like a Japanese School girl at a cell phone convention. I can’t keep up, he’s running so hard. When I do, he’s standing beside the security gate at the top of the road, panting hard. The guard is looking out at him. I’m laughing too hard to talk. When he realizes it was a poor joke, I get a punch to my chest and the silent treatment for 24 hours.