Like mother, like son.

This is a picture of ME when I was 2. My son could be a spittin' image of me if he had green eyes.

Christmas Eve

Ok, I am on Miller Lite #3 and my 20th petit four. I finally see my little guy tomorrow at 2. By then I will have surely finished this entire box of "pitty fours".

Let's take it way back...to Medieval times!

I was just writing a friend an email and went on a major rant, I really liked it and thought I would share it all with you.

Here 'tis:

Women settle all the time out of fear of loneliness. For some reason it is drilled into our heads as little girls that there is something wrong with us if we are single. Seriously. It starts at all the middle school (6th through 8th grade) dances, all the popular girls had boyfriends - thus meaning they were not sitting down, by themselves listening to "crazy for you" AGAIN by Madonna. The rest of us got to sit there, unpopular (too tall!!) and watch, wishing the guys all sitting together on the other side of the room would come ask us to dance. I really wish women would stop this crazy train. The bridal industry would go out of business, divorce rates would go down. I say let's get back to the medieval roots where men had to slay huge dragons, ride horses and have a glorious reputation before a girls father would allow her to even walk with him somewhere. We women would end up happier if we enveloped the mantra of "wow me, woo me, impress me". Guys WANT to do this, it's instinctual for you men - the proverbial CHALLENGE. I have notoriously made it way to easy for a guy to "get me". "oh dont worry, I climbed down from the highest peak of the castle where I was locked away all by myself, then I built a bridge to cross the moat cause I figured you were tired from riding that horse here, and before I shimmied down the castle I made you lunch cause I knew you'd be hungry." That's how I have done things in the past. That is how I ended up married to a man who had no problem letting me handle all of our bills, our new baby - my own "tough guy" exterior got me there! NOW I aim for "yeah, I can climb down that castle, what chu got? Can you climb UP it?" I have to make a conscious effort to not make things easier. It's confusing at times and I worry that I may give a guy the wrong impression that I am not interested. But I will be damned if I make it ridiculously easy anymore. We shall see, like I said, a new path - new journey.

Men + Space = Happy Men Who Want You

I very rarely worry about this being a public site, however lately I cant help but be annoyed by a certain someone who visits this site many many times per day. It's fine, but what are they looking for? What are they hoping to find and why am I so darn interesting to her? This only bugs me because she put forth a very public effort to break up a relationship in hopes that the gentleman (and BOY is he a great guy!!) involved would somehow fall in love with HER. Now that don't make no kinda sense son. I knew I didn't like Alabama, in fact I was AFRAID to go there because I was convinced my Yankee ass would be run off the road by a home-made nitrous-infused monster truck, complete with a flag pole mounted in the bed of the truck for their ever-so-lovely confederate flag. Barf. C'mon, there's a sharp reality outside of the south similar to a cold bucket of water for those types.

Little girls with crushes truly take all leave of their senses and get lost in their fairytale dreams of prince charming (probably gay) and marriage (bwah ha ha) causing them great humiliation. This humiliation can be avoided if they just realize how great a person they are and start embracing "everything happens for a reason". Don't stalk men. No one likes that, in fact men like the exact opposite of that. Play hard to get. Don't return their phone call 4 seconds after they call you. Even if you don't have a life (that's a whole nuther' post) pretend like you do. Don't email him a million times a day, resist the urge to write your first name with his last name in your notebook. Stand up for yourself! You can be a hot sexy bitch with a little aloofness. Men + space = happy men who want you. A good friend once said to me "I sat there waiting for him to call, I had lost complete control of the situation. So I turned my phone off and went out." This is an excellent example of not being pathetic. A girl should never wait by the phone ( I have, recently even!) - get up, get out and go meet someone else (which I did). Most importantly never ever throw yourself at a guy, don't try to convince him he's with the wrong girl cause if he cant see that himself how is he going to see that you are in fact the RIGHT girl? If he chooses someone else well - his loss. Just means there is someone else out there for you.

one hot sexy bitch,
Flydi

Men.

R.I.P match.com. What a weird strange trip it's been. I will miss your daily tidal wave of emails from poor unsuspecting males in the bowls of Georgia, Alabama (ugh.), Tennessee, SWEDEN, etc. However I wanted to thank you for the hours of entertaining profiles to read, ogle over (I swear you create fake ads using models who don't exist to keep us interested). It would not surprise me if match.com was run out of the basement of some 15 year old's house where in between Xbox games and cheetos this punk is writing back to all of us pathetic women. I will say that there were a couple of surprises in there, and I thank you for the "bones" you threw me, even if they are in fact on the other side of the damn country or in CANADA for christ sake.

Match, you helped me realize that I am a hot piece of ass regardless of my mom status. Problem is the over-abundance of "fish-in-the-sea" you provide us. The slightest flaw or inconsistency in someone we all throw em' back cause we know tomorrow you will send us 10 more dudes to check out. I probably overlooked some really nice guys, that had I met somewhere else I would have considered.

yep, time for me to go. I have been recognized by a complete stranger while out riding my bike. It felt exactly like the moment my mom told me I needed to wear a bra in front of all of my little friends. I was mortified. SO, I have decided to pester my friends and get really drunk at their parties and hit on their husband's poor brother. Which reminds me, you F-ING married men!! WHAT IS YOUR DEAL??? It's not my fault you are a chicken shit and stay miserably married because you are "doing it for the kids", who are not stupid by the way, but my point being - ah- oh yeah, don't strut around with your feathers all displayed and use me to make you feel like the stud you once were (or so you say). What's really in it for me? Blech, baarf!

Match, you have apparently helped many people find true love and I'll eventually forgive you for all of the tall, hot, republicans you sent me. A for effort.
Ciao, I'm off to meet men the old fashioned way.
Flydi

Now for some random good stuff....
***warning, sexually explicit comments below - DAD please don't read any farther***

Penis size has come up lately in numerous conversations with my friends. We have been discussing the serious relationships in our life and how those men were, well, small. In fact remarkably small. My first boyfriend was just the wrong person to start out of the gates with. The bar was set into outer space with his freak-of-nature-multi-orgasmic skills. I alos have a friend, god it is so tempting to put his name here and a link to his website but his fiance wouldn't like that, anyway - this friend is huge. He has since stopped wearing underwear as it is uncomfortable. So he says ;) However I am rather certain he has no idea how to use it propah. tee hee. Ok, so my point is that there are men with small penises and great experience and well-endowed men with no skills - making them even on the scoreboard. What is the deal?? I have had crushes on men and watched them do things; play soccer, play guitar, etc and wished they were the same way in bed as they are when they are engrossed in their activity of choice, soccer, guitar. etc.

Lastly my site is garnering serious attention. My naughty little tangents about hooking up and single motherhood have caught the attention of people everywhere. Rachel, I am really hoping you get to publish that wild story about me and the pilot in LA. The "Bad Girl" story of single motherhood and one-night stands. Although he was more of a two-night-two-city night stand. I forgot to mention he didn't know who Whitesnake was, which in my hairband-crazed brain is just incomprehensible.

and here's a random picture of me....

Picking up the Starbucks Barista

I had a very nice chat with the Starbucks barista today. He was very cute, to the point I actually thought he was gay (no offense!) that is until he pointed out the 5 year-old lift tickets attached to my ski jacket. "I see someone has already been skiing this year, twice even!". I was so embarrassed I blurted out "oh no, I haven't been skiing in like 5 WHOLE YEARS, I just keep these on my coat." I am such an idiot. He winked at me and said "you're not from here are you?". And on it went. From skiing, to Milwaukee to weddings to new years, f;irt flirt flirt. My coffee (decaf, non-fat mocha with no whip cream) was waiting for ME for a change. Ha ha.

So, I got to thinking as I strolled down the sidewalk with all my free time; Is picking up the Starbucks barista as bad as hitting on the bartender? Having been a bartender I used to roll my eyes at men who would pull the ol' "hey baby, why don't you do a shot with me?" line. I mean, how would he feel if I walked into his office and asked him to do a shot with me while he sat at his cube, answering the phone?? Kind of odd. Anyway. Picking up the barista is the daytime equivalent to picking up the bartender in my mind.

I will now go there every Tuesday to see if he writes his phone number on my cup next to the "DIANE, N/F, No Whip, Old lift tix".

Eddie Van Halen is getting divorced!! Yahoo!!

Today is a good day. Eddie Van Halen is getting divorced and finally going to come find me, I just know it. He must have found out I too was divorced and really into lead guitarists our something. Who cares if he is old and maybe even a has-been (why on earth would you let Gary from Extreme be the lead singer of the holier-than-though Van Halen??? poor Dave) - he's one of the best damn guitarists ever. All you guitar freaks be quiet. Don't read this post and then email me about Yngwie and Steve Vai and whoever else you think is better - I simple wont hear of it.

You can read about it here:
http://entertainment.msn.com/music/article.aspx?news=209057

And, as it turns out Yngwie is performing here in Atlanta TONIGHT. How's that for coincidence? I went online to doublecheck the spelling of his name and voila, "December 7th, Atlanta GA The Coca Cola Roxy Theater" was there. Too bad I have 2 Christmas parties to go to tonight already otherwise I would ask Yngwie if he could introduce me to Eddie. ;)

While we are on the subject of hairband guitarist and what not, I should mention that I was out till 2 am on Monday night. yes, a MONDAY night! I hired a babysitter, it was all good. Not like the kid was at home alone with the dog. Ok, so I finally got to experience the time warp that is known as "Metalsome Mondays" here in Atlanta. Take every single metal dude you knew in high school. You know the ones, they always wore the black concert t-shirts with stonewashed jeans and biker boots. They had long hair, and smoked. Well, take all of those guys and put them in a basement bar to sing karaoke with a LIVE ROCK band. yes. I will repeat that. A live rock band. The songs you can choose from range from Journey to Judas Priest to Dio to Boston.

I couldnt grow the kahunas I needed to get up there and sing, but boy if I had been doing tequila shots I would have been up there belting out "Crazy on You" by Heart. As the amps wailed an ok version of a Pantera song I committed to singing on that stage on or before my 30th birthday with my friend Raj. He agreed to do the same. So I will start practicing now!
I have missed my rockstar calling. Fo Sho.

Here's the link to Metalsome Mondays http://www.metalsomemonday.com/

You have no idea what you are missing!

Dear Son,
I was talking about the night you were born last night and wanted to write down a few important pieces of those magical moments. What I remember may be a little hazy as I was on lots of drugs to get me through delivering you, but the feelings were very very real. You were very active even before you were born, keeping me up all night with your kicks and turns and hiccups. Music would perk you right up as we drove in the car to the myriad of doctors appointments, so I hope that this is a premonition to your future rocker stardom.

I was terrified to be your mom. I was afraid I wouldn't be good enough and that I would loose my patience and feel like my life was over. This is true, but I truly had no idea how GREAT my life was about to become. When you were finally born they quickly placed you on my chest, all slippery from birth. You! You just stared at me with deep royal blue eyes. Your little mouth quivering with a quiet little cry. You made these little grunts and gurgle sounds as you stared at me. This moment I knew my life was forever changed. That your life depended on me, and that my embrace would be something you would seek comfort in for years to come. Our bonding moment was so massive that every day I gain a glimpse of how huge it actually was. All the nights I have held you when you were sick, your middle of the night feedings sitting in the rocking chair together while I hummed "fields of gold". They all stem from that first embrace.

You are busy with life these days, but every now and then you want me to hold you and comfort you. Those big blue eyes still looking up at me help me to understand that nothing has changed from that moment we first "met". Everything I type seems so cliche, but your birth and the few first moments of your life doubled the size of my heart. As we sit each night and read "Goodnight Gorilla" and "The Tawny Scrawny Lion" and you point out the "rilla" and "rabbits", I want to wrap you up in security and love, to pour my soul into yours so you feel strong and safe in this world.

I love you little man, more than you will ever comprehend.
love, Mom

My $20 dollar Christmas Tree

This year I decided on a fake tree from Big Lots. It cost me all of $19.99 and took two seconds to put together and stand up. It already has lights on it. THIS IS A SINGLE MOM CHRISTMAS TREE. This tree practically said "sit down! have a glass of wine, as soon as we get this tinsel figured out I'll rub your feet". I couldn't help but notice how "bald" and "Charley brown-esque" this tree was though, however my little son was so excited I didn't care. He helped me hang ornaments, well he hung about 20 ornaments in one place, tossed a rope of tinsel over to the bottom left and did a little dance. Kid really knows how to live. No fussing over a "balanced' looking tree for him!

Anyway, I have kept many of the ornaments my friends from Boston made for me about 4 or 5 years ago as part of a surprise christmas party my best friend organized. These ornaments are made out of construction paper, pipecleaners, etc. I even have a gold star to put on the top of the tree with my initials in red glitter. They always make me cry when I take them out amd they go right along with my rebellion against the lame-ass perfectly decorated tree. Growing up we hung OUTDOOR Christmas lights on our INDOOR Christmas tree. We didn't care, or know better. There was an old gorilla with a saxophone, a rubber "Bert" finger puppet that had become an ornament and lastly was the 60's flowery angel. She was a disaster. Her styrofoam ball for a head had bright orange yarn for hair, one eye and was barely hangin on to her shoulders. She looked like drunk housewife. Her dress was cream with huge orange flowers with blue dots in the center. This had to have come from Big Lots in 1970.

Once all of the ornaments were hung, I noticed my son saying "seeeping ca-las? seeeping? awww, night night ca-las". I glanced over to where he was standing and noticed him talking to the Santa Claus ornament in which Santa is sleeping in a hammock with the words "Key West" written above him. THEN as though that weren't cute enough, he went and got a teddy bear, placed him under the tree - then grabbed his new favorite frosty the snowman napkins ($.99 at Big Lots) and placed those under the tree, THEN he started whispering and covered the teddy bear with his favorite blanket (bucky) and said "awww, go to seep. night night". I almost cried, instead I grabbed the camera.

Yes, this is my child. He has his dad's eyes. The only thing I really liked about his dad anyway.

A Love Song

This is rather cliche, but guess what? I dont care! It's a gorgeous song and I plan to include it on the soundtrack when they turn my life into a movie. Kind of an odd mix considering Van Halen's "Aint Talking Bout Love" is on there too. One big giant contradiction, aren't I?

My One and Only Love, Sting

Lyrics:
The very thought of you makes
My heart sing,
Like an April breeze
On the wings of spring.
And you appear in all your splendor,
My one and only love.
The shadows fall
And spread their mystique charms
In the hush of night,
While you're in my arms.
I feel your lips, so warm and tender,
My one and only love.

The touch of your hand is like heaven.
A heaven that I've never known.
The blush on your cheek,
Whenever I speak,
Tells me that you are my own.
You fill my eager heart with
Such desire,
Every kiss you give
Sets my soul on fire.
I give myself in sweet surrender,
My one and only love.
The blush on your cheek,
Whenever I speak,
Tells me that you are my own.
You fill my eager heart with
Such desire.
Every kiss you give
Sets my soul on fire.
I give myself in sweet surrender,
My one and only love.
My one and only love.

Remember Jerry McGuire?

I watched this movie again, after many years of owning the DVD and NEVER watching it. This movie is exactly how my life is as a single mom. I stopped and watched the scene where he kisses her at her doorstep after their date, her dress straps break and he slowly kisses her neck and shoulders as he ties them back around her neck. I watched this scene 4 or 5 times and just sighed. I want that. Not Tom Cruise (too short anyway!). I want it to be ok to get excited about someone without somehow knowing deep down that "this is not going to work..."

"A human head weighs 8 pounds..."

Wedding Day......the real story

November 25th was the day I officially lost my mind. Yes, I left all common sense behind me, or threw out by accident like I do with my keys - the 25th is a very important date for me to remember. I got married at sunset on at Fort Zachary Taylor Park in Key West. It was such a perfect day, really it was an almost perfect wedding - just the wrong guy. It didn't occur to me until around 11pm tonight that it was my anniversary, or that it WAS my anniversary. My x used to look forward to this exact date where I cringed and loathed it. I reacted in anger and frustration, finding it hard to motivate myself to buy him something to show how happy I was. As I type this I am reminded by advice I give so many others yet refuse to apply to my own life. It goes something like this "love is not measured in what you buy each other, the man of your dreams should be able to pick out a $1 dollar trinket at a thrift store and you will love it." Huh. Not my x-husband. He actually asked me for a G5 for Christmas one year as we struggled to pay our mortgage. November 25th reminds me of how foolish I was and serves as a reminder (not like my son doesn't already!) to slow down. I was so swept up in the moment with him, and was motivated out of my fear of loneliness more than anything. I cant forget to tell you all about Dan, the justice of the peace who married us. He's also a real estate agent and arrived at the beach on a moped with a big cooler bungie-corded to the back; "for flowers and cakes and wedding stuff" he explained.

Now, what's really ironic and funny is that as I get married a huge sailboat called the Liberty Clipper sailed by just as I was supposed to say "I do". I was previously engaged to a big Lithuanian carpenter and was planning a wedding on that VERY boat. The Liberty Clipper spends May - October in Boston and November through May in Key West. Anyway, as the boat sailed by all of the passengers started clapping and cheering for us as we stood on the beach. I couldn't believe it. Still don't.

More than anything I just wanted to remind myself, tonight, that November 25th should be a day I stop and think about what's best for ME.

Di

Guts vs Balls

A friend sent me this.....

We've all heard about people having guts or balls. But do you really know
the difference between them? In an effort to keep you informed, the
definition for each is listed below ...

GUTS - is arriving home late after a night out with the guys, being
assaulted by your wife with a broom, and having the guts to ask: "Are you
still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?"

BALLS - is coming home late after a night out with the guys, smelling of
perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the ass and
having the balls to say: "You're next."


Hardy har har!!
Flydi

2 beers, 2 glasses of wine and a martini...

Ought to numb the fury. Or one can hope at least. Not to mention throwing in a ride on the Fur Bus! WOOOO HOOO.
www.furbus.com - check out the interiors of these babies. This lovely little town just next door to Atlanta offers free rides on these party bussesses (how the hell do I write the plural version of bus?) and 20% off if you shop at the locally owned stores for the holidays. The furbusses drive you around blasting KC & The Sunshine Band's "shake, shake, shake...shake your boooty!" in pimped out interiors. I am talking zebra striped seats, fur covered ceiling, feathers, disco lights, BUMPIN music. Heaven if you ask me. I want the good ol' days back where I run out the front door and hop on the bus - the Fur Bus - and it takes me to work instead of school. At any rate this shopping idea is in fact a great idea. The stores have wine and snacks and it's just a nice way to shop if you ask me. Yes, bribe me with alcohol and I will shop - anything to avoid the damn malls. I always need to ease into my holiday shopping and the transition from buying things for my son or myself takes some effort. ha ha. At least this year my shopping list is way way down (dropped about 10-15 people) thanks to my divorce. Such a relief!

On a different note, mercury is retrograde for Gemini's right now. This means ABSOLUTE CHAOS. Anything than can go wrong will. In one fucking brilliant week here's what happened to me:
1. Loose my glasses - only owned this pair for about 8 months
2. Fall off my new bike - just learning how to use the new clip-in shoes
3. lock my keys and cell phone in my car after falling off bike
4. get written up at work for looking for a new job - I now have 90 days to improve my attitude
5. my suspicions confirmed an inter-office romance - not a big deal except the man involved WAS also inter-office-romancing ME too. loser.
6. one of my tenants rent check bounced causing all kinds of public rejection of my bank card. I LOVE THAT.

I know this list will grow longer and I only have to hang in there till December 4th when this fucking retrograde time period is over. That's a little bit more than two weeks.
Wish me luck!

Flydi

Open Letter to the next Mr. Myer.....

Dear Mr. Myer,
I have been injected with a dose of "heart-on-my-sleeve" potion and needed to get this out of my head before I reverted back to my guarded, got-it-all-under-control style. So this is an open letter about romance to the next future Mr. Myer.

A movie I just watched said "when your heart has been broken or mangled it grows back even bigger". That must be what I feel. This pain in my chest is my heart growing bigger.

I have never had a great Valentines day. N.E.V.E.R. It's amazing when I think back over the years of all the attempts that were made and ended up half-assed. For example; receiving roses on the 16th, or the 17th. Going on "double dates" with my guys best friend and his loser, winey girlfriend is not my idea of romantic. Having the waitress hit on my boyfriend during dinner because they clearly know each other for some reason or another. I hate those stooopid cards where they show two little kids kissing or holding hands, but for some reason those I have dated GIVE THEM TO ME. That tells me they dont know me very well. They also give me candy - booooorring!

I'd really like someone to go out of their way on my behalf to be romantic and put some thought into what might just impress me. Surprise me, embarass yourself, make a scene, put yourself out on a limb. I love that. Remember that I love Peter Frampton and have him join us for dinner. ha ha. Ok, ok, if that is too much make dinner reservations in a place we have to get on a plane to get to - and during dinner sit next to me, not across the table from me. Have a plan and lastly dont make me pay for dinner cause your credit card bounced. It really kills any romantic thoughts I may have toward you.

I can assure you I will go out of my way to romance you. That is if I am in love with you. I have killed myself to get tickets to already-sold-out-shows and sporting events for previous chumps I have been in love with. I have cooked difficult, gourmet dinners only to have my dude show up late and too tired to participate. I have wrangled myself into fancy outfits thinking they would be excited and been told they WERE TOO TIRED.

I often hear "you must have tons of guys chasing you down" which I wish more than anything were true. Men in their 60's hit on me, in part I believe because they arent afraid of being rejected anymore. Sometimes there are a couple of interesting ones, but there is very seldom one that I find HOT and SMART and admirable. One that makes me laugh and laugh, one who has razor sharp wit and isnt afraid to use it on me.

Dont be afraid of me, or intimidated I am just smart and full of goals I want to achieve. Grab my hand when we are walking and pull me up against you so I can feel your breath. Lean in close to me, about 90% as "Hitch" would say and smell my hair. Help me slow down as I live my life too fast. Insist on helping me with something even though I will resist due to my rediculous feminist independence.

Above all, give me roses on the 14th of February - not the 16th or 17th. Or a week after.

Comprende?
Flydi

Halloweeny

Ok, I know, enough with the Halloween stuff - but I forgot to put this on my site! Soooo sorry! I am not the creator of this, it's simply brilliant though. I dont know where this is, etc etc. I just loved it.

Thanks to J.Crew for the hottest man on earth

No jacket required, or clothes for that matter. Oh my god, this model on the J.Crew website could very well be the hottest man on earth. He's the hottest thing I have ever seen. Thank you for discovering him J.Crew, AND for putting him in a puffer jacket so he looks like he's the hardy noreaster type.

Who is this guy? Not because I am goint stalk him but you dont just end up on J.Crew your first time out of the gates as a model. And, yes I am objectifying him quite a bit but HE CHOSE to be a model, therefore he knew what would happen when the ladies saw him. He knows he's hot. Sort of like me choosing to be in sales and getting upset when I have to make a cold call. ha ha.

Halloween. Mooooo.

The mother in me

Boy am I ever a mom! My child has grown, much to my amazement. This picture is a year old, and I was just noticing how much of a baby he USED TO BE. So much hype centers around all of the things that can go wrong, things that you can DO wrong as a new mom and - quickly now - RUSH OUT TO THE STORE AND BUY THIS NEW WIDGET to make sure you dont fuck up your child. It's rediculous what "we" (I am in advertising, so I am guilty of doing this) do to new parents. Regardless, I survived the first two years and was just noticing that my child now converses with me.


He says the following:

"Sit down! mom." - very similar to the way I instruct our black lab to "sit down!"

"Here mom."

"you ok? you ok mom?" - usually after I have stubbed my toe and swore in front of him

"what mom?" - this is brand new.

This is after I ask him "do you want to go downstairs and get in the car and go to school and sing songs and color?" hahah. I am just trying to see if he gets all of it.

Lastly, when did he start calling me "mom"? It used to be mommie. In this picture he was calling me just that. Before that it was my favorite, momma.

Hartsfield Jackson Airport Update

Was I not just telling you guys about how romantic it is to have a guy waiting for you at the airport? Was I not just telling you how that hasnt happened to me, in about ...well EVER?

I got to the top of the good ol' escalators in Hartsfield Jackson Airport around 1pm on Wednesday when an unmistakble "DIANE!" was heard. Everyone heard it. I was so shocked I thought "I definately heard my name. there's no doubt someone just screamed my name. who the hell could it be?". I wheeled around, and glanced at the large crowd and finally noticed my friend and former co-worker from Boston, Paul standing there, beaming. Now it made NO SENSE that it would be him, of ALL people. He lives in Vermont. I havent seen him in 3 years!!
I almost cried as I hugged him.

Turns out he is intown for a seminar thing for his work and just happend to be at the airport waiting to pick up people and head off to his hotel. I just happened to be LATE thanks to Delta and the 30 something jets in line ahead of us to take off from Laguardia that same morning.

Apparently a friend of Paul's snapped a picture of the whole scene at the top of the escalators. I will post it as soon as I get it.
:)