Erdos Had The Number First

So, I’m walking around the chemist like an idiot, looking for two things: band-aids and bars of soap. I also need onions, but I need to go to a different store for that. I like London, but it’s times like these when I feel I need some sort of handbook like in the “Accidental Tourist”.

I need band-aids because I cut my finger pulling off the airline tags from my bag, in a bad omen event. I was standing there in the tube station, bleeding from the largest, non-fatal, paper cut ever. Just standing there thinking “Damn it, where am I going to get a band-aid?”.

So, I go to the Chemist (or drugstore, for the un-with-it-not-person-of-the-world … I was trying to figure out how science would help me when I was told it was place not a person).

Anyway, back to me looking like an idiot. So there I am, staring at the shampoos and the security guard, who has been circling me like a wary bird, asks if I need help finding something.

Yes I do, I told him. And yes, I answered to his next question, I am an American. He’s from Nigeria himself, but was in Chicago a few weeks ago, in transit to visit his familiy in Wisconsin. Funny world.

Still didn’t get my bar of soap, but at least the bleeding has stopped.