So, I was surrounded by transexuals...
There's a bar near the place I used to work which was quickly established as the local for my office - a combination of a happy hour which started as working hours finished, cheap pizza and some barmaids so beautiful that they would make the baby Jesus cry.

Naturally, I was there practically every day. After about a year of drinking there, I was well established as a regular - on the occasions they charged to get in, I was ushered straight through with whoever I was with, and was given the occasional free drink. I never really got to know any of the bar staff personally, but was recognised by them all, so never had to wait my turn if I wanted to order a drink.

New Year a year or two ago, I was put in charge of sorting out a venue to go to with a few friends. Not wanting to spend New Year in the bar I sat in virtually every day, I ended up going for a club down the road which we'd all been to before, and had always been a good night. But this New Year fell on a Sunday. We hadn't been to this club on a Sunday before.

We were all looking forward to a night of drink, dancing and girls with loosened inhibitions, and set out in high spirits. However, alarm bells started ringing early on, when one of the guys I was out with turned to me and said, "The two blokes in front of me in the queue are kissing."

"So what?" I reply, "This is London - it's not that unusual..."

"Yeah," he continues, "But there's a bloke behind you dressed in drag as well. What night is it here, exactly?!"

And so, of course, it transpired that I had taken my three single friends for a night out on the pull at 'London's Premier Polysexual New Years Eve Party'. Oops. No wonder the fucker who sold me the tickets was stifling a giggle, but didn't once mention that I should expect it to be different from any other night out.

We made the most of it, and on the whole had a reasonable night. None of us are in the slightest homophobic, fortunately, but we had planned a night of booze-soaked midnight groping. Instead, we were surrounded by butch men, even butcher lesbians, hot lesbians, and ladyboys. There might have been some straight girls there, but none of us were really up for playing the cock-lottery. The bells rang out, and we shook hands and banged back a shot of tequila. I had failed in organising what should have been a cert for a great night out. And I was reminded of this. Several times. With swearing.

We left soon after, and desperate to salvage something from the night, I called the local on my mobile. The phone rang and rang and rang. I was on the verge of hanging up when the manager answered. HAMMERED.

I quickly explained that we were on our way, that he would recognise me, that we didn't tickets but I'd thank him eternally if we could come in.

"I think I know who this is..." he slurred. "You can come in mate, but we're shut. It's just me and the bar staff here, so it'll be a lock-in..."

I nearly cried tears of joy.

From 1am till gone 4, I was in my favourite bar, drinking, smoking weed, and playing pool with women who wouldn't have looked out of place on magazine covers. At one point I was behind the bar serving drinks to THEM, and from the second we walked through the door where the manager welcomed us with open arms, we didn't pay for a single thing. And, just to top it all, we all had successes of varying degrees with the bar staff.

It remains solidly the best New Year I've ever had, especially since the weird beginning of the night led on to something which probably would have never otherwise had happened.

Find a good pub. Drink there regularly. Amazing things will happen. I'll be telling that to my grandkids.
(Sloppy Giuseppe, Thu 5 Feb 2009, 22:30, Reply)