DAY 1, PART IIIThe hour is o-dark-hundred, and a very very drunk yours truly is
RUNNING across the street from a bar to get a fried chicken sandwich for some totally unknown reason. But, I'm getting ahead of myself -- > Cut to several hours prior to this event:
... After the intense rain storm, Davey and I headed over to The Black Friar (pub) in the Black Friar (neighbourhood). Kind of disappointing meal and that pub reinforced my dislike for Timothy Taylor Landlord ale. I just don't see what all the fuss is about.
Still, it's an interesting pub due to its location, history, and the interior artwork and
marble bars!
After a bit of food and drink, we met up with Afghan Dave. And that's when our adventure really took a turn ... :)
We were originally going to do a kind of historic pub crawl. After discussing how to break into Afghan's old office to steal some precious artwork, we headed up Fleet Street to The Cheshire Cheese.
Great pub! I absolutely loved the subterranean feel of the place, full of little nooks, low ceilings, and wall to wall people. Reminded me of New York! After 3 pints of Samuel Smith's, we accidently ran into Phil King who was drinking just one floor down from us! How we missed Phil, I'll never know, though I'll guess beer had something to do with it. ;)
After some discussion, the picture Afghan Dave painted of his local pub where his friends hang out for a spot of beer and karaoke sounded like a lot of fun. There was one string attached, however: If we went, we must sing karaoke. I figured I would say yes and then "forget" all about it. PDT_008.
After what seemed like a train ride to the wilds of god knows where, and then a
bus ride, we arrived at the pub and met Afghan's friends, Tristain and another dude whose name escapes me at the moment.
What followed were 5 hrs or so of
very heavy drinking. I stuck with Guinness, which was very fresh and well-poured. I have no idea how many pints we drank, but I'm going to guess 8 or so to be on the safe side. It was a
lot.
The night wore on, and we got drunker and drunker.
At one point, this rather large party arrived consisting of
VINCE, and his entourage of, for lack of a better term, fag hags.
Now, a few words about Vince:
He looks like Prince
He acts like Prince
He dances like Prince
And he sings like Prince. This guy can karaoke like a mofo!!!!
Needless to say, we had no end of fun mocking poor Vince. Challenges were raised as to who would have the balls to ask Vince to dance with them.
Eventually, it was our host, Afghan who walked over to Vince and had a chat with him. Vince turned out to be a very nice, guy, who isn't shy of the camera, as you can see. He was stoked to hear there was a New Yorker in the place, and we even posed for a picture together (TO style, of course):
So, now we finally get kicked out of the bar. It's o-dark-hundred hours, and there is no way in hell we're going to be able to get back to City Airport. Fortunately, we found a
great cabbie who drove us back for 35 quid, I think. So, chicken sandwich in hand, we pile in for the long ride back.
And to think, LGS was about to start in a few hours ... (To be continued)
ps: I'm convinced that the chicken sandwich saved my life that night.
pps: Yes, I did end up singing karaoke. Two songs, actually, but they were both team efforts. Lot of fun, if truth be told.
