Chromeo is one of the funnest groups to come along since 2002, and I finally got to check them out when they played London last Saturday. I had no idea they had exploded so hugely, and was especially floored by the “chromeeeeoooo, oohhhh-ohhhhh” chanted between songs like a cult of Oz-Chromeo worshiping drones.

It was a seriously fun show full of kitschy adornments. The band’s true-to-the 80s vocodered stylings were an amusement for all, but one that could wear off after a while. (That while has not come for me just yet).

I also dig the fact that they’re “the only successful Arab/Jewish collaboration since the beginning of time,” (hilarious, if untrue) and that David (the Jewish half) is earning a PhD in French Lit from Columbia University in New York while teaching French to undergrads. His dissertation topic: “Theorizing the Pleasure of Reading in Eighteenth Century France.” Nice.

Something always rubbed me the wrong way about Emily, so I uniformly shunned her through the batcave and beyond. Feeling quite vindicated.

My dear friend, Vicente, alerted me of this…

Emily the Strange is a rip off of a 1978 book character.
Posted by Mark Frauenfelder, December 3, 2008.

For irony’s sake, here’s a paragraph from the Emily the Strange website:

“Designers including Jean-Paul Gaultier, Valentino and Marc Jacobs have paid tribute to her, but she doesn’t care! Emily wants you to be yourself, think for yourself, and DO IT YOURSELF. There’s nothing more boring to her than copying everyone else. Emily is the link to the Stranger in us all.”

Hmph.

That’s a Stephen Colbert quote that I’m pointing at London today because while it’s been so very good to us, its dizzy sidewalks make exploring it annoying as hell most of the time. Stay left? Stay right? Bugger it all!

When I first moved to Berkeley, California from the suburbs of Texas where one drives everywhere from the age of 15 and cops suspiciously scope any hapless pedestrian on its otherwise empty sidewalks, I was a lost fish. I had no idea how to walk around people!

I over-thunk every move I made. Silent battles were fought in my head: “Dear god, here comes a pedestrian, what do I do?!” Step to this side, step to that side…bump. “Sorry!” (walk quickly away like in an awkward teen movie.) This happened with skaters, bikers, you name it, until I finally got my land legs and realized that others will compensate for your trajectory. They realize the pace and direction you’re going and will adjust themselves accordingly. It’s cool, they won’t run into you nor you into them.

Now it’s Berkeley all over again in London, but that simple rule of physics no longer applies.

And it’s not because Londoners aren’t considerate. People seem to know how to wait for the Tube. For the most part, there’s no shoving, people are polite, and even when we’re all crammed like sardines for the morning commute, tall men will take conscientious measures to protect you from their armpits.

(The only exception to this general politeness is the couple of times I’ve seen people take up the seat next to them with their stupid bags full of cheap crap while the car fills up and it’s the only seat left. For some reason no one protested the rather large lady with bags taking up even more space than necessary in this way last time I saw this happen on the Piccadilly Line. They just gave her longing looks, and she just continued to ignore them.)

Anyway, the rule in London is supposed to be “stay left,” but it’s a total crap-shoot who actually does this. I tried to look for patterns, and in my totally unscientific, interrupted time-series observation, it appears that most of those who do are “native” Londoners, both of white and non-white persuasions. By “native” perhaps I mean people who grew up here from a young age (?).

London, being the uber-cosmopolitan city that it is, has people of all stripes walking its sidewalks, gazing at its historical buildings, getting lost in its crowds, and checking out the fabulously clad. Let’s face it, the majority of the world stays right when walking. This makes for a precarious journey on foot for an unassuming guest like myself. Given all the visitors from here and there, nobody knows what they’re doing!

A friend of mine advised to just throw my head down and charge full speed ahead, and let them worry about getting out of your way. I laughed at the time (first week in London), but now, six months later, it’s my new rule! Sad, but true.

If you’ve ever been caught behind a group of five people walking leisurely on a busy sidewalk, spanning across the entire thing, too busy laughing and announcing their thoughts loudly to hear your excuse-mes, it’s that kind of feeling. Nearly every corner you turn, someone is about to ram into your stomach and a hurried “sorry” is tossed over the shoulder.

So seriously, London, pick a damn side. Left or right. And stick to it! Your sidewalks look like a bunch of dizzy ants on a cookie! Otherwise, you’re quite lovely and we should have tea sometime.