In the same week that I saw Neil Gaiman, I surprisingly returned to London for reasons that upon contemplation elude me. Nevertheless, I was there, and this happened.
I had gone with my father and his... Girlfriend? Concubine? I've never been entirely sure how to phrase this, but at least that should give you an idea of the relationship. And also her son. First, we had gone to the theatre in order for my father and his mistress to essentially 'audition' their production of a play to the director of the theatre in order to get a venue to perform in. After which, we went o a restaurant that served what can only be described as a n ungodly amount of meat. From here, we split off.
The Woman Who Happens To Be Seeing My Father and her son went off to see Les Misérables. The stage version, not the film version. I, having no interest in ever seeing such a long musical, went with my father to the cinema instead, where we passed the time in a gentlemanly fashion viewing World War Z.
The film over, we still had much time to wait for Les Mis to finish. Our initial plan was to retreat to the car, wait there, then pick them up once the show was over and retire homeward again. However, father realised that he did not actually have the car keys upon his persons. We were, essentially stranded.
Not to worry. The interval was coming soon, and we figured we could catch them at the interval, get the keys, and continue with the initial plan. While we waited, we decided to retire to the nearest pub we could find on the Shaftesbury Avenue.
We quickly found around the corner called The Duke Wellington, a pub that despite looking as busy as a supermarket at Christmas we slipped into with relative ease. We go inside, get as close to the bar as possible and get two pints of beer.
I noticed something was odd. In our rush to get beer, we had not taken note of the fact that my father and I had in fact entered a gay pub by accident. In fact, we merrily had our drinks in our hand when it suddenly dawned on us that the majority of the clientele were male. Looking up the pub on Google Maps reveals that in street view at the time the picture was taken, there was a sign hanging over the corner entrance advertising popular gay dating app, Grindr.
This struck us both as uproariously hilarious. We went outside to where it was cooler, and stood amongst what we had first mistook as a queue to get inside, drinking our pints and discussing the matters of the day until such a time where we could retrieve the car keys.