It's a bit o' the Irish
My sincere apologies to my faithful readers. I'm really sorry about the delay, I've sort of been busy in my own special way (call it lazy if you want). I now make it up to you.
So today was St. Patrick's Day. Now you know what that means: go out drinking and partying, obviously! Ryan had done some work as well (first time this year, I believe) so it was an even more special occassion. So well, the plan was to go down to the pub, drink quite a few Guinness' (Irish stout beer) and earn a Guinness hat in the process, and then head down to Legends (the club) for a good night out.
So well, we end up leaving the flat at 7, and you just know that nothing good can come of that (leaving so late on a day when people start drinking at noon). As expected, every bloody pub is filled up to it's maximum capacity, so we're not sure where to go. I suggest the Percy, where they play good music (most of the times... sometimes... I'm still not sure--very unpredictable). So we manage to make it in and it's packed. But the music is great, so we decide we'll stay. The bummer, though, was that they had run out of hats, so that meant that no matter how many Guinness' I drank, I wouldn't get my hat. Shame, really. We could've tired going elsewhere, but we managed to find a place to sit down and there was good music (where probably elsewhere they'd be playing the crap music they always do).
I leave the table to go buy my round, and much to my amazement, I get asked for ID. I was hurt. Really hurt. First time in Newcastle (when I haven't been with Steve) that I've been asked for ID. Disappointing. But well, I did have my passport with me (lucky, eh?) because I had taken it the other day to the doctor's just in case and I had forgotten to take it out of my jacket. So well, when I make it back to the table I see Ryan's talking with this strange guy. Hmmm. He's a Geordie, you can tell right away. Not only because of his accent, but because of the way he looks (I won't say anything just in case... dont' want any trouble). I'm trying to make out what they're talking about, but it's really difficult given that there's loud music and his accent is... well... Geordie. He sees me evesdropping so he start talking to me as well. Fuck, what a mistake. It turns out that he had asked Ryan what he was doing and he had told him Ancient History, and then the Geordie bloke was trying to persuade him into becoming an engineer. Not only that, though, but also to join the army as there he would learn everything he would need. Although he kept saying that he wasn't trying to persuade anyone, it was clear that he was. He later asked me what I was doing and when I told him IS he left me alone... perhaps he has no problem with computer people.
We finally manage to break free after about 20 minutes (that's right, 20 bloody minutes!) and we just make our way to the other side of the pub, hiding from the guy. We had always been told that Geordies were really friendly, but this friendly? Fuck me. I really needed to piss, though, so I took a risk and went to the bathroom (it was on the other side of the pub, very close to where we were sitting). I seem to go by unnoticed and well, go up the stairs and take a wee. When I'm done, I turn around and see the guy taking a piss right next to me. Fucking hell, I didn't know what to do, so I just saluted him and moved on. Rushed out.
We stayed a while more at the pub (again, good music, you don't get that everywhere) and we even picked Creeping Death (Metallica) to be played... and it did! Ah, good stuff. But then it was time to leave, the club had opened and we were risking getting caught. So we headed.
When we left the flat earlier, we had agreed not to take coats. Why? It's a pain to take care of a coat at a club, so we thought we'd leave it at home and just put up with the cold. We were going to be drinking at the pub anyway, so that'd warm us up. And then when we got out of Legends we'd be all sweaty (and, again, we'd be drinking) so it would be okay. But it was fucking cold. So very very cold. We were both going to freeze, so I suggested that we'd jog to Legends. Ryan agreed so we just jogged across the Newcastle city centre. Yes yes. People looked at us as if we were insane, which, of course, we were. Ryan had to make a pit stop halfway through, though, so I had to make sure that no policemen saw him. I still can't believe we jogged in the middle of the night. But it actually felt good... I miss doing exercise.
Legends was okay. It didn't pick up until very late, so there was a lot of idle time. However, it was nice to chill out for a time. However, even at the peak of the night, not too many people showed up, probably because they had been drinking from noon, they were probably extremely pissed so they either went home pissed or they got lost (or run over) on the way. Still, we had a good time as they did play some good stuff--some different music for a change.
We ended up having about 8 pints, I think. Okay, but not nearly as much as you'd have on a hardcore proper night out. But hey, we had a good time and that's what counts. The weird thing, though, was that I didn't feel the effects at all. 8 pints, that's about 4 litres of beer. Some might say it's because of my tolerance, but if I'm to let you in on a little secret, I haven't been drinking much as of late other than in special ocassions. I think I'm getting too old for that (or it's just not a good idea to drink a lot in the cold weather... at least for me it isn't). Shame, oh, the shame.
So today was St. Patrick's Day. Now you know what that means: go out drinking and partying, obviously! Ryan had done some work as well (first time this year, I believe) so it was an even more special occassion. So well, the plan was to go down to the pub, drink quite a few Guinness' (Irish stout beer) and earn a Guinness hat in the process, and then head down to Legends (the club) for a good night out.
So well, we end up leaving the flat at 7, and you just know that nothing good can come of that (leaving so late on a day when people start drinking at noon). As expected, every bloody pub is filled up to it's maximum capacity, so we're not sure where to go. I suggest the Percy, where they play good music (most of the times... sometimes... I'm still not sure--very unpredictable). So we manage to make it in and it's packed. But the music is great, so we decide we'll stay. The bummer, though, was that they had run out of hats, so that meant that no matter how many Guinness' I drank, I wouldn't get my hat. Shame, really. We could've tired going elsewhere, but we managed to find a place to sit down and there was good music (where probably elsewhere they'd be playing the crap music they always do).
I leave the table to go buy my round, and much to my amazement, I get asked for ID. I was hurt. Really hurt. First time in Newcastle (when I haven't been with Steve) that I've been asked for ID. Disappointing. But well, I did have my passport with me (lucky, eh?) because I had taken it the other day to the doctor's just in case and I had forgotten to take it out of my jacket. So well, when I make it back to the table I see Ryan's talking with this strange guy. Hmmm. He's a Geordie, you can tell right away. Not only because of his accent, but because of the way he looks (I won't say anything just in case... dont' want any trouble). I'm trying to make out what they're talking about, but it's really difficult given that there's loud music and his accent is... well... Geordie. He sees me evesdropping so he start talking to me as well. Fuck, what a mistake. It turns out that he had asked Ryan what he was doing and he had told him Ancient History, and then the Geordie bloke was trying to persuade him into becoming an engineer. Not only that, though, but also to join the army as there he would learn everything he would need. Although he kept saying that he wasn't trying to persuade anyone, it was clear that he was. He later asked me what I was doing and when I told him IS he left me alone... perhaps he has no problem with computer people.
We finally manage to break free after about 20 minutes (that's right, 20 bloody minutes!) and we just make our way to the other side of the pub, hiding from the guy. We had always been told that Geordies were really friendly, but this friendly? Fuck me. I really needed to piss, though, so I took a risk and went to the bathroom (it was on the other side of the pub, very close to where we were sitting). I seem to go by unnoticed and well, go up the stairs and take a wee. When I'm done, I turn around and see the guy taking a piss right next to me. Fucking hell, I didn't know what to do, so I just saluted him and moved on. Rushed out.
We stayed a while more at the pub (again, good music, you don't get that everywhere) and we even picked Creeping Death (Metallica) to be played... and it did! Ah, good stuff. But then it was time to leave, the club had opened and we were risking getting caught. So we headed.
When we left the flat earlier, we had agreed not to take coats. Why? It's a pain to take care of a coat at a club, so we thought we'd leave it at home and just put up with the cold. We were going to be drinking at the pub anyway, so that'd warm us up. And then when we got out of Legends we'd be all sweaty (and, again, we'd be drinking) so it would be okay. But it was fucking cold. So very very cold. We were both going to freeze, so I suggested that we'd jog to Legends. Ryan agreed so we just jogged across the Newcastle city centre. Yes yes. People looked at us as if we were insane, which, of course, we were. Ryan had to make a pit stop halfway through, though, so I had to make sure that no policemen saw him. I still can't believe we jogged in the middle of the night. But it actually felt good... I miss doing exercise.
Legends was okay. It didn't pick up until very late, so there was a lot of idle time. However, it was nice to chill out for a time. However, even at the peak of the night, not too many people showed up, probably because they had been drinking from noon, they were probably extremely pissed so they either went home pissed or they got lost (or run over) on the way. Still, we had a good time as they did play some good stuff--some different music for a change.
We ended up having about 8 pints, I think. Okay, but not nearly as much as you'd have on a hardcore proper night out. But hey, we had a good time and that's what counts. The weird thing, though, was that I didn't feel the effects at all. 8 pints, that's about 4 litres of beer. Some might say it's because of my tolerance, but if I'm to let you in on a little secret, I haven't been drinking much as of late other than in special ocassions. I think I'm getting too old for that (or it's just not a good idea to drink a lot in the cold weather... at least for me it isn't). Shame, oh, the shame.
posted by Jimmie | 8:09 PM
2 Comments:
so remember how they used to call me nonno?? well, i think you're joining my club now
well, two things jimmie. first of all you jogged across newcastle, so you sweated off the beers. and you think you had 8 pints of beer, you think. After 4 liters of beer, anybody would we wasted.
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