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This is a question Nights Out Gone Wrong

In celebration of the woman who went out for a quiet drink with friends after work, and ended up half naked, kicking a copper in the nads and threatening to smear her own shit over hospital staff, how have your best-laid plans ended in woe?

(, Thu 24 Mar 2011, 16:02)
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Lovely Scumpton

Back when I was about 18 or so I had a Very Important Appointment in Southampton. Fortunately my older brother was at uni there (well, the Dimstitute really, but he had a house, that's the main thing), so I could go and stay with him the night before. Predictably enough, as soon as I got to his house his housemates christened me Mini-Cap'n (my bro was Cap'n) and started shovelling booze down my throat. The rotters.

Soon enough we were in Kaos, singing about Chicago and shoving V-necks up arses. At the time Kaos had a particularly scrummy beverage known as Rocket Fuel, which if memory serves (and by this point it was getting dicey) had vodka, fruity lacquers and Reef in it and got you utterly spannered. Yum yum.

Now, my final memory is of being in Kaos at, oooooooh, about 11ish? Fast forward..... some time, and I'm in a field.

Quick aside for geography here. Kaos is in Southampton city centre. Southampton is blessed with some delightful parks and greens, but no fields. The nearest fields are several miles away from Rocket Fuel dispensaries.

Anyway, even in my impaired state I realise that this is not where I want to be, so I start walking. How I choose which way to walk I've no idea, but walk I did. And walk. And walk.

Cue several hours of aimless wandering, hoping to run into a landmark. I didn't, but for a while I did manage to get myself trapped in some allotments. No clue how I got into them, but once I was in there was no bloody way out again. Seriously. Who surrounds allotments with an 8ft fence topped with barbed wire?

Having spent some 20 mins prowling the perimeter of this vegetably Dachau searching in vain for the portal through which I blithely strolled in, I eventually bowed to the inevitable and prepared myself to scale the fence. I started climbing, only to discover that my shoes were too big to fit in the chain link fence. No worries, pop them off and lob them over.

As they sailed over the top, gaining their freedom, one of them snagged on something briefly before making it over. Oh shit. I'd forgotten about that. Well, I'm committed now. If I don't cross right here then I'll never find the damn things again. Hiking boots they may not be, but better than tramping about all night barefoot. Besides, thin cotton shirts were designed for repelling barbed wire, weren't they?

Anyway, clamber gracelessly to the top and flop over, dropping directly to the ground with only mild lacerations and teensy baby concussion. Doesn't matter. I'm out! Onwards!

Many many hours and miles later, and I find myself in an industrial park. But wait! What is that traffic noise I can hear? Joy!!! A motorway! I don't know the small back roads but I know the area well enough to navigate home from here!

For anyone who knows the area, the house I had to get back to was in Swaythling. The industrial park I had found was the Tesco distribution depot at the junction between the M27 and the M271.

For everyone that doesn't , I was a cocking long way from home. And so very, very tired. (I might post maps in replies if anyone is that interested)

Was fairly simple from there, a trek along a motorway (on the other side of the barrier, of course) and then by the time I got back into town the buses had started running, and a nice driver took pity on a knackered idiot and dropped me closer to home than he should have. My (very VERY relieved) brother found me asleep on his doorstep just before 8 the next morning, just in time to throw me through a shower and off to my Very Important Appointment.

At Southampton Uni. Yup, twas my entrance interview. Sitting in the waiting room with the other hopefuls, most of whom were with their parents, who were giving me the filthiest of looks, I felt like re-heated poop. 8 hours of walking, 20 mins of sleep in a garden and a burgeoning hangover make me a dull boy.

I take solace from the fact that the interview wouldn't have gone well anyway, in fact being half pissed still probably helped as I didn't panic, but still....

To this day I've no idea how I got from club to field, that may be a good thing as I'm sure it wouldn't have been dignified. Don't do it kids.

Length? No fucking clue, but it couldn't have been less than 12 miles.
(, Fri 25 Mar 2011, 11:27, 4 replies)
For "vegetably Dachau"
(, Fri 25 Mar 2011, 12:02, closed)
He he!
Good story! *click*
(, Fri 25 Mar 2011, 13:00, closed)
did they give you an offer ?
(, Fri 25 Mar 2011, 21:59, closed)
amazingly, yes
I was rather suprised, as the bloke interviewing me clearly thought that I was scum
(, Sat 26 Mar 2011, 10:28, closed)

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