I Shit You Not, I Totally Saw David Hasslehoff

Yesterday was our final day in London, and it was a weird one. We went to a pub for our nightly pint (or three) and saw a small car accident occur across the street. Then, inside, there was thumping house music, and it was full of 19-year-olds, but outside the music was inaudible, and everywhere there were grown-ups hanging out, drinking beer, and talking. We leaned on lamposts to sip our ale and talk (no such thing as open-container laws here - when the pub fills up, people simply flow out into the street with their drinks).

We heard a small commotion, and looked up to see what appeared to be a man getting mauled by a Doberman Pinscher. The dog kept growling and leaping up to bite his arm, but he seemed strangely unperturbed. He definitely did not have the 'Holy shit, I'm being mauled by a dog' expression on his face, so everyone at the pub just watched as he nonchalantly walked away, the Doberman still biting the crap out his jacketed arm.

Then Lee took out his camera so we could look at the Greatest Picture in the World Ever.

Here's where the story cuts back to earlier that afternoon.

Lee and I had been walking around, trying to find the Egyptian embassy to work on visa issues for that leg of our trip, and had realized that we were near Harrods - London's classic uber-department store. We strolled around it for a bit, checked out the grand eating hall, and then walked out to continue our travel planning. But when we got to the corner, we saw a small mob of people gathered around the other entrance to Harrod's. A large red double-decker bus sat opposite the door. We were mildly interested and stepped a bit closer to see if anything exciting was going on. We had concluded that nothing interesting was happening, and were about to leave, when I noticed the banner on the side of the bus. It bore the tanned, dashing image of David Hasselhoff.

David Hasselhoff was in Harrod's signing his new autobiography. We checked the banner. It said he was signing from noon to 4pm. My watch read 3:57. Holy crap. We had to wait and take a picture of David Hasselhoff.

So we joined the crowd and waited. Everytime the doorman opened the door, we switched on our digital cameras and leaned forward. And every time, someone other than the star of Nightrider, Bay Watch, and countless German music videos stepped out. We waited some more.

I looked at my watch again and it showed 4:13pm. We had been waiting to see David Hasselhoff for over 15 minutes. I was not sure I liked what that said about me. How long is too long to wait for a glimpse of David Hasselhoff? I don't know.

But then a security guard came out, and then another, and then there he was. David Hasselhoff. His tan really was magnificent. He smiled and waved, and we snapped pictures. In my first one, his back was turned. I re-framed, and as he turned back, pushed the shutter button. But it was another picture of his back. Then he got on the bus. I snapped through the window, but the auto-focus chose the window instead of David, and his face was blurred. I focused carefully and snapped again, and his face was again obuscured, this time by a crack in the window. And then I realized two things:

1. David Hasselhoff is like Sasquatch - he is nearly impossible to capture on film.
2. I now had more pictures of blurry David Hasslehoff than I had of anything else from my 4 days in London.

And then like that - poof! - he was gone. But although I failed, Lee did not. Lee had some how managed to push to the front and snap the World's Great Picture of All Time Ever. And I swear to you, gentle reader, that I will post that picture just as soon as we figure out how to plug Lee's camera into a computer over here.