Reflections on Regents Street

By Nicole Paulino

Coming upon Shaftesbury Avenue and heading home to Blandford Street at 3am, we were well out of the sober world. In our leather jackets, we walked quite cheerfully while giggling at our ugly attempts at a British accent. A good night of dancing at O’Neill’s pub and a handsome 29-year-old man buying us drinks had put us in a pleasant mood as we walked away from the Chinese lanterns strung across the streets and the bright yellow and orange lights that made this clubbing hotspot, Chinatown.

Baggage

By Maureen Mullarkey

“Your bag is too heavy,” the man behind the counter says.

“I know,” I reply. “It’s okay if I have to pay a fee.”

The man, who is standing on a platform behind the counter, looks at my bag, then looks down at me.

“Um,” he mumbles, looking at the scale, “unfortunately, your bag is over the maximum limit.

Even if you paid the overweight fee, there’s no way it’s getting on the plane.”