OK, OK, I admit it. We’re those kind of gays. We’re the ones who, long before we knew we were gays of any kind, begged our parents to let us get up in the middle of the night to watch Princess Di’s fairy-tale wedding back in 1981. We can speak intelligently about why Helen Mirren’s Queen Elizabeth I was far superior to Cate Blanchett’s, we are as intimately aware of Prince Philip’s many faux pas as of Fergie’s, and we’ve followed every report of minutae, confirmed or fictional, regarding the April 29 nuptials of commoner Kate Middleton to the future king of England.
As luck would happen, we were due in a London suburb for a far less elaborate or famous wedding, that of an old friend who chose the especially dreary month of January to tie the knot. My partner and I had promised ourselves as little boys that we’d be on the sidewalk, not on our couches, the next time the Brits staged a wedding of the century, but we could neither afford to go twice in one year nor — as we semi-seriously considered — stay abroad for four months to see Wills wed.
Still, there was an upside to going ahead of the crowds: We could serve as travel scouts for like-minded queers en route across the pond for either The Wedding or, perhaps, Queen Elizabeth II’s as-yet unscheduled Diamond Jubilee celebration next year or, of course, the 2012 Summer Olympics in London.
Part of the thrill of going to London, it must be said, begins with the flight, and British Airways is all luxury: ample legroom, which is critical on very long flights for those of us over six feet tall, and the sort of menu — steak, fish, salads, desserts, alcohol — that hearkens back to a bygone age of aviation.
I arrived with a little bit of trepidation because as recently as 2003, when I last visited London, there was a decidedly less-than-enthusiastic welcome for gay travelers that stung and surprised me given how notoriously more accepting Europeans are supposed to be. Asking for one single, large bed for two men elicited a curious, icy stare from the attendant at a well-known international luxury chain, and a surly taxi driver seemed put out when his two male passengers held hands as we rode to the Comptons of Soho bar on Old Compton, London's equivalent of Castro Street.
Eight years on, the city of Big Ben and that hideous gigantic Ferris wheel is ready for the gays. One year after my unfortunate encounters, England began recognizing same-sex civil unions as equal to marriage, so the most famous new papas in the British Empire (and its salacious tabloids) are, of course, Elton John and David Furnish. And just a week before our arrival, a British court issued a landmark ruling that fined an innkeeper at a seaside B&B nearly $6,000 for refusing to give a male couple a double room. In that decision, the judge wrote, “It is a very clear example of how social attitudes have changed over the years for it is not so very long ago that these beliefs of the defendants would have been those accepted as normal by society at large. Now it is the other way around.”
old-world glamour, we checked out the one-year-old Park Plaza Westminster
Bridge, which, with rooms starting at $230, may just be one of the best
bargains in this very expensive world capital. That’s not nothing, but
it is kind of a steal considering the primo location across from Big Ben
and its very hip, young vibe, from the expansive, sultry lobby bar to
the huge rooms appointed with slick, minimalist furnishings. If the
Langham was the sort of place the 19th-century upper class regarded as
luxurious, the Park Plaza is what someone like Prince William would view
in the same light today.
Finally, we concluded our trip at the
Savoy, a few blocks away from Theatreland and gifted with stunning views
of the Thames River. You know the Savoy even if you think you don’t,
for this is where George Gershwin first played “Rhaphsody in Blue,”
where Queen Elizabeth II first went out publicly with her future husband,
and where Oscar Wilde carried on much of his affair with Lord Alfred
Douglas. This is Hollywood’s London haven — Frank Sinatra, Judy
Garland, Barbra Streisand, and Noel Coward all performed in the famed
American Bar or Beaufort Bar, and Vivien Leigh met Laurence Olivier in
the lobby — and we’re quite sure we encountered Nora Ephron in the
We checked in just in time, as the Savoy — where I had
taken high tea in 2003 and remained lustful ever since for the rich,
buttery taste of the finest raisin scones ever — had just reopened last
fall after a three-year, $300 million overhaul. Indeed, it’s worth
noting that even if you cannot afford a room at the Savoy (they can
start at $500), at least take tea. Doing so is a classic, elaborate
British tradition that can last two hours or more during which guests
leisurely enjoy unlimited variations of special-blend teas as well as
constantly replenished finger sandwiches, scones, and pastries in a
stately room where they are serenaded by a tux-clad pianist. It costs about $50 per
person, and reservations are required.
Having never seen the previous incarnation of the 268 rooms, divided into Edwardian and art deco wings, it’s hard to grade the Savoy on its overhaul except to say that the 450-square-foot Edwardian room we occupied was flawless right down to the daily fresh flowers. The difference between the Edwardian and art deco options is mainly about taste, the Edwardian having the more antique, regal touches of brocaded comforters and decorative draperies, whereas the art deco versions are sleek and modern, with primary-color paint and white-and-gray bedding. All have the modern elements — flat-screen TV, iPod docking station, spacious marble-floored bathroom — you’d expect from new digs.
Before we departed, we managed to do one very pertinent royal-related activity, the William and Kate Wedding Walk, opportunistically slapped together by the British Tourist Authority, whose site, VisitBritain.com, overflows with interesting and very reasonably priced group tours. The tour starts outside the building where Queen Elizabeth II was born (by cesarean, we are informed) and concludes outside Westminster, where The Wedding will take place.
There’s one problem with it: It’s very little about William and Kate and much more about their various forebears. In particular, and not displeasingly, the ghost of Diana looms, whether it be the jeweler that made her — and now Kate’s — engagement ring or the chapel where her body lay for visits from grieving subjects. Even the conclusion of the tour by our guide was Diana-esque: “After the wedding, Kate’s going to have a lot of titles after her name, but she’s going to have to work very hard to earn the hardest title of all, that of the people’s princess.”
I consulted with Thompson about why the tour felt so contrived.
“Kate and Wills are two very young people who are on the outset of their lives, and he just happens to be Queen Elizabeth’s grandson,” he said. “Come back in 30 years when their children are getting married and I’m sure the William and Kate tour will be far more interesting.”
What a splendid idea! It’s a date!