On Thursday night, I found myself having one last pint (my second of the night) to conclude what, thus far, had been an unbearably dull evening. First round at a pub called "The Goblet" (yes, it is likely exactly what you're imagining - drab, quiet, dimly-lit with less than a handful of locals drowning whatever miseries their minds would conjure) which lasted a painstaking 15 minutes. Of our group of five, only one enjoyed the lifeless atmosphere we had stumbled into. The remainder counted the seconds of life which were irrevocably wasting away as we sat inside this domesticated dungeon.
Not surprisingly, leaving seemed to bring back a glimmer of hope that the night could still yield a potentially rewarding end. That is, until the one who enjoyed The Goblet decided that the solitary solemnness was a picture perfect ending to a night. (I'd like to mention that this guy brought a XBox 360 with him to London . . . Take a minute to grasp the idiocy of that fact . . . and person).
Since he'll undoubtedly come up again, he will henceforth be known as GeoWhiz. I chose that name for this reason: Riding down an escalator with a group of guys, GeoWhiz decides he's going to make a move on a couple of cute girls in front of him. Here is the ensuing conversation:
GeoWhiz: Hey, how are you ladies.
Girls: Fine, thank you.
GeoWhiz: You have an accent (no shit Sherlock). Where are you guys from?
Girls: Luxembourg
GeoWhiz: What's Luxembourg?
Girl: The country? (looking at him with a confused daze)
GeoWhiz: (reciprocating that look, although with a different thought process occuring) Where is it? Is it in Asia?
Girl: No, it's in Europe.
GeoWhiz: Oh, well I'm from America. Have you ever heard of that? (I think he was being serious when he asked that question)
Girl: (Turning away) Yeah.
(I bet that girl has never appreciated the end of a moving walkway so much as she did right then and there)
Now, of course I could have used that as an opportunity to approach the girls and comment on the idiot who didn't know what Luxembourg was, shared a laugh at his expense and have built rapport at the expense of GeoWhiz's self-esteem, but I didn't. Why, I have no idea. I guess I was content with standing there, laughing by myself that day. Anyway, back to standing outside The Goblet.
Now after having been socially and emotionally drained for the duration of a drink inside the Goblet, it's no surprise that the group was having reservations about going to another bar. After a minute or two of contemplation, one guy and myself agreed to head to The Angel (a bar with a moderately excitable social life) for a drink before heading home.
Upon arriving at The Angel, I scan the crowd. Much to my dismay, the lack of enthusiasm leads me to believe that the imminent end of my night is near. I order a pint. We're discussing whether or not prostitution should be legal when I hear some gleeful shouts behind me. I turn around to see a group of five guys, presumably at a similar age to our own, entering the pub. I decide the night's not over yet.
A half an hour later, we're walking with Leon and Will to their student union for a party. We're warned not to expect much.
Leon: "It won't be too exciting, but it's cheap drinks and 80's music until two."
I'm content.
I can hear the music blaring, although I don't recognize the tune. We have our first round of shots. Tequila and a lemon. Another song comes on I don't recognize, despite the obvious fact the artist is an American. We take our next round of shots. Tequila and a lime. Apparently we're debating whether a lime or lemon is better after the shot. A few more rounds and the bartender says they're out of lemons. We order tequila and an orange. Yes, an orange. Not surprisingly, nobody wants any more tequila after that. Next round is jager. Another song comes on that I don't know. I make my way towards the DJ, when I see a cute blonde girl dressed in black tights with a yellow tank top and neon pink shoes. After a moment of contemplation, I decide that the shitty music can continue for the duration of my conversation.
Approaching the girl, I notice a razor-blade shaped pink, glittery star painted on her right eye which leads me to believe she must be dressed up as someone in particular.
Me: "Who are you supposed to be?"
Bailey: "I'm Bailey."
Me: (Confused) "Who's Bailey?"
Bailey: "ME! What's your name?"
(I decide this girl will be fun to fuck with)
Me: "Reese"
Bailey: "Well it's nice to meet you Reese. What do you do?"
Me: "Telephone"
Bailey: "What?"
Me: "Ice Cream"
Bailey: "I don't get it, where are you from?"
Me: "The future."
Bailey: (laughs) "Ok, well why are you here?"
Me: "To sleep with Sarah so she can have a kid and he can fight evil machines and save the world."
Bailey: (Obviously hasn't seen the Terminator) "Who's Sarah?"
(Ya Mo B There comes on. I decide it's time to to focus on fixing the music problem)
Me: "Come with me if you want to live."
Bailey: "Huh?"
Me: (In my terminator voice) "I'll be back."
I make my way towards the DJ, and see Leon and the guy I came out with working together to stimulate the whiskey economy. Specifically, good ole mr. Daniels. When I get behind the table where the DJ has his equipment set up, I immediately understand why I'm not recognizing any of the songs. The DJ was a hybrid of the nerd wearing a sweatervest during a chess tournament and the World of Warcraft fanatic who remains remarkably skinny despite consuming only hotpockets and energy drinks.
Me: (With very little hope) "You uh. . . big 80's fan?"
DJ: "No."
Me: "You play any Journey yet tonight?"
DJ: "What's Journey?"
Nice job whoever picked this guy
Me: "It's just a small, local band from back home. Nevermind. Listen, some tier 3 pants are going to be dropping on Molton Core later and your paladin could probably use them. I'll take over from here" (Thank you roommate in college who played World Of Warcraft)
DJ: "You play WOW, too?"
Fuck my life
Me: "Step aside young one"
Thanks to the six shots of tequila, I wasn't too interested in how this guy felt about my taking over as the DJ. Unfortutely, I had no idea how idea how to run his equipment, and after turning the volume off entirely, I was asked to stay away from the DJ table for the rest of the night. Fuck it, keep playing Ya Mo B There (the only song I heard that I was familiar with, sadly).
I went back over to join the guys I came with and was informed that Leon finished his pitcher of JD and Coke first, making him the drinking champ of the night. The only problem with him being the champ was that it meant he was, as they say in England, proper fucking pissed (translated: very, very drunk).
Somewhere near 2:30AM those of us remaining inside were forced to leave. Bailey came up to me, asking where we were heading next. "I have to go destroy the mogwai because my roommate fed them after midnight," I told her. "Right . . . Well it was nice meeting you Reese. Good luck with Sarah." She turns and walks away. I smile and look at my buddy. To say that he was baffled would be a huge understatment. He looked like he just heard me bust out in Japanese. Hmm, actually, didn't Gizmo come from the old guy in Japan? "Umm, what the hell, man?" "It's an 80's party, I'm just being from the 80's."
In the meantime, Leon, noticing a police van (the police drive in vans with about 4 officers in them around here) decides it would be a good idea to start singing "Fuck the Police" as loud as he could. They had the windows down. They open the doors, get out of the vehicle and start walking towards us. I come to the conclusion that they're not impressed by Leon's vocal abilities, or not amused by his choice of a tune. Probably the latter.
Police Officer: "What's that song, mate?"
Leon: "I'm sorry, officer, I'm just drunk."
Police: "Yeah, and making a fucking ass outta yourself."
Me: "We're sorry sir, we're taking him home right now."
Police: You better, cause it's going to be you or us."
Fortunately for Leon and his friends, they're from England and are apparently used to this sort of thing. They assure us that they'll be fine getting him home and start walking down the street. I watch Leon kick a cone over, and the police, noticing also, approach him and tell him he's got one last chance. Deciding that walking with these guys might be a mistake, my buddy and I fall back about 50 meters. The police get back into their van and drive off. Less than a minute later, I see Leon dancing and shouting, and of course kicking constructing signs and more cones down. Less than another minute later, I watch the police van drive past us. One of the officers jumps out and jogs up to Leon, turning him around and pressing him up against a wall. Another officer gets out and pulls a set of handcuffs from his waist. A drunken fit of apologies emerges from Leon's mouth for 30 seconds, maybe longer. I don't know for sure because after 30 seconds he's inside the Police van being driven away. Mental note to self, don't sing.
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Fuck you. Yah Mo B There rocks.
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