Pete
10-03-2005, 12:52 PM
Friday
Headed off bright and early to the airport, to catch my flight over to London for my 21st birthday party with my best mate. Flight was delayed about an hour so I was a little late arriving... Expected to go straight to my friends house, dump my bag and the 5 or so layers of jumpers I was wearing that wouldn't fit in my bag.
This wasn't on the cards though and we went straight to his student union. Which was filled alternately with extremely hot freshers and extremely pretentious posers and some that covered both demographics. At this point I was starving, having not eaten anything other than some cereal about 8hrs ago, but instead of the gorgeous chinese restaurant I'd be eyeing up (mmm crispy duck) we went to an indian. I'll have to preface this by saying I have neither the tongue nor the stomach for anything remotely spicy so this was a bad move for me...
Got in and the menu had absolutely no indication of how hot anything was... I bit the bullet and ordered Saag Aloo (spinach and potatoes) thinking it wouldn't be too hot. Ha. 30 seconds later, it feels like someone has covered my tongue in lighter fluid and then proceeded to fire bomb it. As I choke down what I can of my curry everyone else remarks on the lovely flavour of it. I've lost all feeling in my mouth but manage a 'Yeah great!'. We get the bill etc. and leave a tip - I hand over a £20 note saying this is for the meal and proceed to get no chance.
Meal cost: £8
Meal benefits: Major dental work can now be carried out without anaesthetic and my colon will be about 4 inches shorter by tomorrrow.
Eventually we headed back to the house, but my friend said he had to go meet someone first, leaving me with his friends I'd just met. Cue many awkward silences on the way back to the flat, and more once inside...
Not much else to report that evening but my friend's really friendly next door neighbour invited us over for a few beers, and then when we mentioned it was our birthday he gave us a Fortnum & Mason bottle of champage! Awesome guy, and highlight of the evening.
Hours of sleep: 5
Times front door was slammed: 28+
Saturday
Spent the day walking around London (yes... walking) covering a large distance (about 20 mile round trip probably) the lowlight of which was getting caught in a massive downpour at in nothing more than a t-shirt.
The Party
This kicked off fairly early, as the other people from back home started arriving at about 7pm - we got some music on and then I received my most disturbing news of the evening. To kick things off we were going to make a curry. My tongue had only just recovered from the last onslaught, but I knew I'd have to eat it to stop myself getting rat arsed by 8pm.
8pm rolls around... I'm rat arsed. The curry arrives, and I pounce on it like a starving man. 3 bites in and I remember I don't like curry. I'm now knocking back white wine like it's going out of fashion and struggling to stay involved in any conversation. I recover enough composure to realise my plate is still heaving with curry and this might look bad and hurt the feelings of the multiple people involved in cooking. I decide one more loaded forkful would improve matters for all concerned. How I hate that decision. Within seconds I knew there was something very very wrong with my stomach. I try to ride it out for a few seconds thinking I'll be ok. More white wine will make it better... I then realise escaping a room filled with people and finding a toilet has become priority number one. I gain my feet, and mumble something about going for water - this is when I curse human kindness. A girl I'd been chatting to earlier says 'Oh no, it's fine, I've got a glass here!'. I had to accept it and sat back down... Drank the whole thing in one draught and sat quietly, concentrating on keeping it together. Success! Due to this massive show of willpower the vomit count for the entire party was kept to a resounding zero.
Later in the evening I was subjected to the very embarassing chorus of Happy Birthday that I hadn't really been expecting (mainly because most people knew it was my friend's birthday and not mine). It was extremely appreciated, as was the second bottle of champagne that appeared. 4 seconds later half of the champagne was cooling on my jeans and the rest was being shared out to my 'real' friends. I had to venture outside to find two of them where we met a black guy with massive dreads who was very Jamaican - really cool guy and I ended up giving him the rest of the bottle.
I then spent the rest of the evening chatting to people and informing them how long in minutes that I'd been 21.
About 8 people crashed out in the room I was staying in, and I managed to keep the party going until 5am - when everyone else faded out. Awesome night.
Red wine/white floor incidents: 3
Broken bathroom doors: 1
European girls chatted up: 2
Hookups: 0
Hours of sleep: 4
Units consumed: A lot
Sunday
My actual birthday was greeted with a colossal hangover and the realisation I'd be taking that onto a plane in a few hours. Spent the morning drinking water, listening to an anarchist trying to justify his beliefs and staying away from anything resembling food. Walked around an outdoor flower market, said my goodbyes and headed off to the airport. The plane was on time but seemed to take about twice as long as usual. Not helped by the person in front of me who'd cranked their seat as far back into my lap as possible and the fact I was battling blurting out something stupid every time I started to fall asleep and relive conversations from the night before.
Birthday wishes received post-party: 4
Birthday cards: 1
Since then I've slept 12hours and only managed to make it to 8pm on Sunday before bed became very attractive.
Sorry that's massive, didn't really mean to write that much :)
Headed off bright and early to the airport, to catch my flight over to London for my 21st birthday party with my best mate. Flight was delayed about an hour so I was a little late arriving... Expected to go straight to my friends house, dump my bag and the 5 or so layers of jumpers I was wearing that wouldn't fit in my bag.
This wasn't on the cards though and we went straight to his student union. Which was filled alternately with extremely hot freshers and extremely pretentious posers and some that covered both demographics. At this point I was starving, having not eaten anything other than some cereal about 8hrs ago, but instead of the gorgeous chinese restaurant I'd be eyeing up (mmm crispy duck) we went to an indian. I'll have to preface this by saying I have neither the tongue nor the stomach for anything remotely spicy so this was a bad move for me...
Got in and the menu had absolutely no indication of how hot anything was... I bit the bullet and ordered Saag Aloo (spinach and potatoes) thinking it wouldn't be too hot. Ha. 30 seconds later, it feels like someone has covered my tongue in lighter fluid and then proceeded to fire bomb it. As I choke down what I can of my curry everyone else remarks on the lovely flavour of it. I've lost all feeling in my mouth but manage a 'Yeah great!'. We get the bill etc. and leave a tip - I hand over a £20 note saying this is for the meal and proceed to get no chance.
Meal cost: £8
Meal benefits: Major dental work can now be carried out without anaesthetic and my colon will be about 4 inches shorter by tomorrrow.
Eventually we headed back to the house, but my friend said he had to go meet someone first, leaving me with his friends I'd just met. Cue many awkward silences on the way back to the flat, and more once inside...
Not much else to report that evening but my friend's really friendly next door neighbour invited us over for a few beers, and then when we mentioned it was our birthday he gave us a Fortnum & Mason bottle of champage! Awesome guy, and highlight of the evening.
Hours of sleep: 5
Times front door was slammed: 28+
Saturday
Spent the day walking around London (yes... walking) covering a large distance (about 20 mile round trip probably) the lowlight of which was getting caught in a massive downpour at in nothing more than a t-shirt.
The Party
This kicked off fairly early, as the other people from back home started arriving at about 7pm - we got some music on and then I received my most disturbing news of the evening. To kick things off we were going to make a curry. My tongue had only just recovered from the last onslaught, but I knew I'd have to eat it to stop myself getting rat arsed by 8pm.
8pm rolls around... I'm rat arsed. The curry arrives, and I pounce on it like a starving man. 3 bites in and I remember I don't like curry. I'm now knocking back white wine like it's going out of fashion and struggling to stay involved in any conversation. I recover enough composure to realise my plate is still heaving with curry and this might look bad and hurt the feelings of the multiple people involved in cooking. I decide one more loaded forkful would improve matters for all concerned. How I hate that decision. Within seconds I knew there was something very very wrong with my stomach. I try to ride it out for a few seconds thinking I'll be ok. More white wine will make it better... I then realise escaping a room filled with people and finding a toilet has become priority number one. I gain my feet, and mumble something about going for water - this is when I curse human kindness. A girl I'd been chatting to earlier says 'Oh no, it's fine, I've got a glass here!'. I had to accept it and sat back down... Drank the whole thing in one draught and sat quietly, concentrating on keeping it together. Success! Due to this massive show of willpower the vomit count for the entire party was kept to a resounding zero.
Later in the evening I was subjected to the very embarassing chorus of Happy Birthday that I hadn't really been expecting (mainly because most people knew it was my friend's birthday and not mine). It was extremely appreciated, as was the second bottle of champagne that appeared. 4 seconds later half of the champagne was cooling on my jeans and the rest was being shared out to my 'real' friends. I had to venture outside to find two of them where we met a black guy with massive dreads who was very Jamaican - really cool guy and I ended up giving him the rest of the bottle.
I then spent the rest of the evening chatting to people and informing them how long in minutes that I'd been 21.
About 8 people crashed out in the room I was staying in, and I managed to keep the party going until 5am - when everyone else faded out. Awesome night.
Red wine/white floor incidents: 3
Broken bathroom doors: 1
European girls chatted up: 2
Hookups: 0
Hours of sleep: 4
Units consumed: A lot
Sunday
My actual birthday was greeted with a colossal hangover and the realisation I'd be taking that onto a plane in a few hours. Spent the morning drinking water, listening to an anarchist trying to justify his beliefs and staying away from anything resembling food. Walked around an outdoor flower market, said my goodbyes and headed off to the airport. The plane was on time but seemed to take about twice as long as usual. Not helped by the person in front of me who'd cranked their seat as far back into my lap as possible and the fact I was battling blurting out something stupid every time I started to fall asleep and relive conversations from the night before.
Birthday wishes received post-party: 4
Birthday cards: 1
Since then I've slept 12hours and only managed to make it to 8pm on Sunday before bed became very attractive.
Sorry that's massive, didn't really mean to write that much :)