London's Drinking
Apr. 26th, 2007 09:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gordonzolaI sent no postcards on my vacation, but I did send some expensive text messages. The mid-day one I sent to a few folks from a pub was the most evocative:
I am sitting in a pub with about 15 other men. No one is talking. I am the only one reading. They are all staring straight ahead holding their drinks. The Pussycat Dolls are playing "Don't you Wish Your Girlfriend was Hot Like Me". I fear for my safety.
It's no secret that I like drinking. In daily life, I have little rules for myself about drinking because, well, there are times I can like drinking a little too much. Those rules don't apply on vacation. On my first day in London I ran into an old housemate who told me he was treating his vacation like a trip to a tropical island: the main priority would be drinking in the sun. Hmmmm, I thought, England is an island….
Legal public drinking is still a novelty to me. I could have done without some of the drunks on the fairly empty trains late at night on my way back to East London, but I envy the freedom of drinking a non-hidden beer on the subway. When my host walked me to the train on the last day, in fact, pretty much her last words were, "Oi, I can't believe you didn't drink beer on the train. Fancy one for the road?". It was 8:00 and I was heading to the airport so I said no. I am pretty sure that that was my only day in England that I didn't drink.
Many days I drank twice. It's hard to resist a pub in the middle of the day, except for maybe the one I described in my text message. Unfortunately, I bought my pint there before I looked around. And I really needed to pee and kill some time. My plan to visit the exhibit of comic characters and superheroes masturbating (uh, Not Work Safe, duh) was foiled by the fact that the gallery was locked.
The only bummer about my trip, in fact, was that where I was that my host hated all the pubs around where she lived. According to her, none were proper pubs. Either they had themes going for a particular clientele (that didn't apply to us) or they were full of East End gangsters and we didn't want to go there. Thus I was glad I bought the unlimited use travelcard.
Winsey took me to a pub in a gentrified part of town where we saw some popstar (who I never heard of) wearing one of those Cosby sweaters that the hipsters think is ironic enough to overcome its ugliness. My host took me to a b-day party at a crowded pub with a great DJ then a late night bar with a lousy one. The late night bar desperately wanted to be American. It had a whole menu of all the girly drinks I love but with exchange-rate prices I couldn't afford. The birthday girl even made me dance to "Thriller" with her in order to make her boyfriend jealous. It worked. When she left the dance floor they immediately started making out.
Arasay and de_gustibus took me to get a proper pub lunch after a late night of Cambridge partying. I also visited the most famous pub in Cambridge, amusingly enough called "The Eagle". Like I mentioned previously, I grew up on war movies. Anyone else remember those scenes when the pilots are about to go off to war and they burn their names on the ceiling of a pub with their lighters? Well, this was the pub. Look I'm pointing, not asking for another beer.
And I'm sunburnt. I told you the English weather was weird.
I am sitting in a pub with about 15 other men. No one is talking. I am the only one reading. They are all staring straight ahead holding their drinks. The Pussycat Dolls are playing "Don't you Wish Your Girlfriend was Hot Like Me". I fear for my safety.
It's no secret that I like drinking. In daily life, I have little rules for myself about drinking because, well, there are times I can like drinking a little too much. Those rules don't apply on vacation. On my first day in London I ran into an old housemate who told me he was treating his vacation like a trip to a tropical island: the main priority would be drinking in the sun. Hmmmm, I thought, England is an island….
Legal public drinking is still a novelty to me. I could have done without some of the drunks on the fairly empty trains late at night on my way back to East London, but I envy the freedom of drinking a non-hidden beer on the subway. When my host walked me to the train on the last day, in fact, pretty much her last words were, "Oi, I can't believe you didn't drink beer on the train. Fancy one for the road?". It was 8:00 and I was heading to the airport so I said no. I am pretty sure that that was my only day in England that I didn't drink.
Many days I drank twice. It's hard to resist a pub in the middle of the day, except for maybe the one I described in my text message. Unfortunately, I bought my pint there before I looked around. And I really needed to pee and kill some time. My plan to visit the exhibit of comic characters and superheroes masturbating (uh, Not Work Safe, duh) was foiled by the fact that the gallery was locked.
The only bummer about my trip, in fact, was that where I was that my host hated all the pubs around where she lived. According to her, none were proper pubs. Either they had themes going for a particular clientele (that didn't apply to us) or they were full of East End gangsters and we didn't want to go there. Thus I was glad I bought the unlimited use travelcard.
Winsey took me to a pub in a gentrified part of town where we saw some popstar (who I never heard of) wearing one of those Cosby sweaters that the hipsters think is ironic enough to overcome its ugliness. My host took me to a b-day party at a crowded pub with a great DJ then a late night bar with a lousy one. The late night bar desperately wanted to be American. It had a whole menu of all the girly drinks I love but with exchange-rate prices I couldn't afford. The birthday girl even made me dance to "Thriller" with her in order to make her boyfriend jealous. It worked. When she left the dance floor they immediately started making out.
Arasay and de_gustibus took me to get a proper pub lunch after a late night of Cambridge partying. I also visited the most famous pub in Cambridge, amusingly enough called "The Eagle". Like I mentioned previously, I grew up on war movies. Anyone else remember those scenes when the pilots are about to go off to war and they burn their names on the ceiling of a pub with their lighters? Well, this was the pub. Look I'm pointing, not asking for another beer.
And I'm sunburnt. I told you the English weather was weird.
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Date: 2007-04-26 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
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