» Nightclubs

Last Night In Fact
This story is slightly unrelated, in that it happened near a dance floor rather than on it, and in a bar rather than a nightclub. But I’m going to post it anyway.

We were out celebrating our American friend’s imminent departure from our lovely country to return to his own.

After drinking most of the day, we arrived at a tequila bar, where a shot of tequila with lemon and salt costs just one British Pound.

We have a couple of them; all is going well until Yank (his slightly obvious nickname) asks us...

“Have you guys ever done an angry pirate?”

To which we reply in the negative.

We are curious, we ask him to explain.

“We do it all the time back home. Instead of licking the salt, drinking the shot and sucking the lemon, you snort the salt up your nose, drink the shot and then rub the lemon in your right eye”

I must explain, this idea sounds absurd, there can surely be no possible reason for this, the whole point of the salt and the lemon is to take the taste of the tequila away surely? But we are very drunk, it’s obviously an American tradition so why not?

So we do it.

It’s agony.

But we do it again.

And again.

And again.

And then we started getting the other people in the bar to do it.
It took some convincing, and some practical demonstration, but they do it, and soon everybody is doing it.

The bar staff are in hysterics as all these people are buying shots and then rubbing citrus fruit in their eyes.

Soon, everybody in the bar has one eye closed and are rubbing their noses.

****Wavy Lines To Indicate I have No Idea What Happened After That Bar****

We’re back in my flat, some of our party have passed out, there are a hardcore few still awake, and drinking, we decide more ‘angry pirates’ are in order.

A quick trip to the kitchen reveals we have no table salt, but we have rock salt, and we have no lemons or limes, but we do have fresh orange juice. Result!

We start snorting rock salt, and pouring orange juice in each other’s eyes.

Eventually, we ran out of tequila, and I must say, I’m glad, I’m not sure concentrated orange juice is that healthy, and if we’d snorted much more salt, we’d have sucked all the moisture out of our bodies.

We found out this morning that it is NOT an American tradition, our ‘merkin friend has NEVER done it before, he has never SEEN anybody do it before and he will never be DOING it again.
(Fri 10th Apr 2009, 0:21, More)

» Hotel Splendido

chinese communists
At the young, tender age of fourteen, my mother allowed me to go to Rotterdam on my own, in order to participate in a sporting tournament. (Lacrosse if your interested). I had been in touch with the organiser of the tournament by email, and he gave me the address of the sports grounds we were to be using.

So off I went to book the flight to Amsterdam Schipol, the day before the tournament, giving me ample time to get to Rotterdam in time.

I didn't even consider what I would do for the 24 hours between my arrival at Schipol and being at the grounds. So when I arrived in Amsterdam, with not much money, a giant bag, that was nearly bigger than me, full of stuff, I suddeenly realised that I hadn't thought of where I would sleep.

I wondered round the square outside the train station that is the link to the airport. Eventually I found a touristy kind of place, that sold postcards. I went in and asked if there were any hostels. Yes the little old dutch man said, and gave me some very vague directions. I got lost looking for this hostel but stumbled on a dark and dingy place in a kind of back alley. By this point, it was dark and I didn't particularly want to be walking round with this giant bag, so I went in and booked a room.

My previous experiances of hotels and hostels was that upon giving you the key, the person tells you where to locate your room. Nope, not this time, the woman just handed me the key and went back to reading her book. I wandered round for a while and eventually found it. I went in, not too bad i thought. eight or nine bunk beds, none of which appeared to be occupied. I dropped my bag and tried to un-dislocate my shoulder. It wasn't particularly late, so I put my most of money and my passport in the safe thing, and went out to explore the sights of Amsterdam. I walked round and went into the first cafe I came across. It was completly empty apart from the bar person and another few people who were obviously regulars judging by the scowls they gave me.

I went on to get utterly monged out of my face on a whole half a joint. And then stumbled back to the hostel, which was next door. I'd only been out for about an hour, if that, but I got back to my room to find it completely full. Of Chinese people. Who all knew each other, and were talking Chinese.

I have to reiterate. I was absolutely out of my face, and they were all staring at me, and I got extremely paranoid. I got into bed, positioning myself between the wall and my bag, as if that would protect me from what I knew were a room full of evil, scary, mass murdering communists. I didn't sleep, just hid my face for the whole night. I must have dropped off, as I woke to find the room empty again. This really confused me. Had I really imagined it all? Is Dutch cannabis so strong? I got out of my self made fortress to find a bag of chinese crisps and some biscuits.

result!

(the next day was as eventful, of course i didnt have a phone with me, no telephone number for the oraganiser, meaning that no body knew where i was.)
(Fri 18th Jan 2008, 16:54, More)

» Pet Stories

Clever Dog
We had a labrador when we used to live in Brum... He was extremely mischievious but did that annoying puppy dog eye thing when you told him off...

Anyway, he used to take himself for walks as we lived in a village so there weren't that many cars, he used to go down to the supermarket and take things from the baskets of the shoppers, he came back with loaves of bread, sausages and even a jar of curry once... he had his own tab that we had to pay off when we went shopping... he also chewed his way through a solid wood door so he could get out and sunbathe...

He woke us up in the middle of the night (which he NEVER did) so thinking there was something wrong went downstairs and opened the back door... he went outside, took a pear off the pear tree and came back inside.

He's no longer with us , but our new dog seems to share a few of these qualities aready...
(Sat 9th Jun 2007, 17:36, More)

» Nightclubs

The Raz
Otherwise known as Blue Angel, Liverpool.

A place you don't wear nice clothes, and especially not white clothes other than ones you never want to use again due to 'Raz Juice' stains.

A place where if you're taller than 5 foot 7. your head scrapes the ceiling.

A place where sweat drips from the ceiling and seeps from the walls.

A place we know.

A place we love.

If you've ever been there, you'll know what I mean.
(Fri 10th Apr 2009, 13:34, More)