One of my favorite movies is Notting Hill. If you've never seen it, you should. It's a wonderful study in awkwardness starring the master and mistress of that particular trait, Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts. Hugh, the regular Joe, lives in Notting Hill in London, and falls in love with the American movie star, Julia.
In the movie, they make a big deal of that fact that Hugh lives in a tiny little townhouse with a Blue Door. Capitalized because that's the key point.
Being in London and finding myself in the Notting Hill neighborhood, my sister and I began looking on every street for a blue door. Naturally, not a single blue door was to be found. After giving up on our search, my mother suggested we try one last street before we headed to the tube. Kara and I started up the street and the first house had...a blue door! I scampered up and plopped myself on the front stairs to get a picture, only to hear the door swing creakily open, and turned to see a very confused British girl about my age looking at the creep on her stairs.
What does one do in that situation? This one smiled, said "hello!," jumped up, and skipped down the stairs to where Kara was spinning around, taking pictures of just about everything in sight to appear less creepy and in effect, just looking more creepy than before.
But I got my picture of the house with the Blue Door in Notting Hill.
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