Olympic Journey: London Calling

London was a blast in more ways than one. And I’m not referring to any bombings other than the ones left in the crapper at the City Hotel.

Our hotel room was bigger than your average London flat. It had a kitchen and a sitting area, and beds, and a tv. It was large. Livin’ Large. Not really, but hey! Let’s go find a pub.

The hotel was strategically located right beside a subway stop. Then again, being London, you’re never really far from one. This turned out to be quite handy. We got a daypass, which is a pretty good deal considering a single ride is £3 each, a mere £4.90 is a much better deal for the three or four rides we’ll be taking.

Now, we managed to get somewhere. Here’s my problem with London. I have no clue where we are at any point in time. All I know is the occasional pub that we stopped, and the few trademark points in the city. But in all honesty when we hit the underground my directional senses were shot straight to shit. We’d jump on, change cars, go in loops, get off on the opposite side of where we started, spin me right round baby right round like a record baby, where the hell am I?

I know we went to a big-ass museum, and a starbucks on the first day. We hit a sports bar with 50 wings for £5… ones that you could get multiple flavours of. The waitress had a nice ass, but the hostess won the cute/hot chick of the night award. We ate lots of beer and drank some wings and wandered off.

Our next, and probably only real plan, was to head on over to the Maple Leaf. It’s a pub, with a bunch of Canadian stuff in it. The Canadian content in this pub is highly approved by the CRTC, let me tell you.

We were drinking, and drunk, and there was a table of three very, very attractive females. I don’t know how it happened, but during a very short stint down in the loo, Conor managed to actually approach them. I can’t say how, who, what, or why, but it was insanely impressive.

As it turns out, they’re all Canadians too. Go figure.

We drank til the place closed at 11. We coulda drank more there, and talked more to these beautiful beings from Toronto and area; going to school in Queens (yeesh, youngin’s! oi!) But hey, we went our way and they went theirs. Unfortunately, that’s all there was of that; except for the stolen picture I have of the one who’s name I can’t remember.

It was seriously impressive though. Seriously.

The fun didn’t end when the pub closed. No way Jose! We had a vote outside and decided to head back towards the hotel before our day passes expired (make all the jokes you want.)

When we returned to our subway stop we exited the station the wrong way. In London, exiting the wrong way can get you in the wrong spot. It was new territory, unfamiliar buildings and streets. We looked around and pointed left, right decided to go this way. I had to take a leak, so I headed towards a dumpster. I had noted a blue car with guys sitting in it but I didn’t really care, I had to pee bad. So I did, and then everybody else decided to take turns. As this was happening Fraser was pulling a lil’ Family Guy skit… “Na nana nana Na Spider Man!” This had been happening for quite some time, actually, but this time whilst we awaited Conor and Jamie to finish watering the dumpster, Fraser did the same, this time pointing at the car with guys sitting in it. I was looking the other way trying to figure out where we were.

Lets just say this isn’t exactly the type of thing you’d want to do in a foreign country. One of the guys jumps out, and is closely followed by the driver. He flips out his badge and says something along the lines of “we’re cops, and we don’t appreciate being pointed and laughed at.” At this point, you try and explain to him that it’s just a stupid Family Guy thing. He continued on, “I just saw you and your mates pissing over there, and unless you want to spend the night in jail I suggest you get outta here.”

Right-o Sir! I don’t care which way we’re going, but we’re going this way, and pronto!

These cops were angry, although, kinda short. I’m sure Fraser coulda taken them while I ran away.

The next day we woke up, or at least became lively around the time of the nice prime time noon, and Conor was already gone. We figured he had actually gotten abducted by aliens, until I remembered he said he was going for coffee and reading. We all met at various times at the lil’ Cafe Nero somewhere near a business district, hot business women are always a treat.

During the time we spent in the Cafe, we decided to call up the crazy Canadians from the plane ride. Conor left a nice detailed message and that was that.

We screwed off for a few hours towards the Science Museum and the Natural History Museum. There was some fashion thing going on at the Natural history one, but we couldn’t figure out how to get in to check out the hotties, so we just went to the Science Museum. That was the afternoon and at some point the crazy Canadians called Conor back and we planned a meeting spot at some funky statue in Trafalgar square. So now that we had drinking buddies, we were just stoked.

We all met back up, found the crazy Canadians and went drinking. Are you surprised?

We went for dinner at some crazy asian/oriental place called yomamma or manamamma or something with a mamma in it, I can’t remember. It was quite the interesting place. For the most part people were just sitting in long rows. We were fortunate enough to get a table in the back just for us. Although, I’m not sure if it’s fortunate considering the lady behind me had her pants half way down her ass with nothing but a wee black piece of butt-floss showing. It’s hard to not stare, drool, and do other things when in the company of females (these are the crazy Canadians, if you haven’t figured that out.) The food was quite interesting. I had something that when it came I had no idea how to eat it. It was more art, or something, than it was food.

After that we headed towards a pub that one of the crazy Canadians wanted to hit up. She said it was cool, and had a no smokin’ area. That’s fine with all of us. Eventually, after getting kind-of lost, we located the place and resumed drinking.

It was, again, a very interesting evening. Two in a row in London. This is a new record for us as a collective I think. There was actually stimulating, intelligent conversation going on between us fools and two girls.

Absolutely insane. Again, the pub closed at 11, so we parted ways at the subway station and returned to the hotel for a couple more beverages.

The next day was nothing to write home about. It was wake up, check out, travel to paddington, dump Jamie off so he could get to Gatwick, and then the remaining three returned to Leamington Spa, where the drinking would continue and the relaxation would actually start.

London kicked some serious ass, let me tell you. Between the five different females that interacted with our party, the police interaction, cheap wings, quantities of beer, and generally insane behavour somewhere near Piccadilly square, I’d do it again.

Peace out, London.

About SmartSsa

a mindless soul flushed down the toilet
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