Sleepwalking my way through life: 72 hours and eighteen candles



72 hours and eighteen candles

Saturday 13th : Midnight

We were in the only good club in town, sidling in from the cold and sitting round a scratched metal table that stood inches from the dance floor which was populated with a spectrum of people tossing their hair and shakin’ their thangs. Soon a round of drinks was placed in front of us, and we all raised our glasses in merriment, coursing in unison to a happy birthday.

I was with Maddy, Laura, and their respective boyfriends; celebrating stage one of my birthday bash. Stage one involved a few people gathering at a local club and getting rat arsed in celebration of my eighteenth year still standing. There were more than a few people I knew passing too and fro, and more than once I found myself being accosted with hugs and slurred birthday wishes. Drink after drink was given to me, and bit by bit the world began to spin in the best way possible.

Soon I was up dancing and having shots and laughing and laughing more.


3am

We finally decided to leave; after practically three hours of dancing and drinking. We walked through the down centre, the walls echoing with an eloquent version of Queens Don’t Stop Me Now. I hung back with Hannah, who was completely wasted and lucky to still be standing, and as a result we lost the rest of our group. Maddy and Laura had left the previous hour so I migrated to my usual lets-go-out-and-get-drunk group – the group that were now disappearing dots on the horizon as I steered Hannah away from anyone who would take advantage of her drunken state.

We stood in the taxi queue and phoned our peers, asking where they had disappeared to. Turns out they were a few hundred yards down the street at a chip shop and I promised that we would wait for them to grab a collective taxi home. I hung up the phone and explained the situation to Hannah who drunkenly sighed and climbed into a taxi with two random guys.

I rolled my eyes and climbed in after her.


4am

“Look! Ish him! Ish Mr Brightside!

“I know, you pointed him out in the taxi.”

“He’s a pretty good dancer.”

“He is?”

“Yesh. Wait, where’s he goin?”

“Home. As are you.”

“Wait Joe, wheredyou live?”

“Over there, but I think I’ll walk you home first.”

“Aww, you’re sweet.”

“Thanks.”

Pause.

“My feet are fucking sore.”

“I’m guessing it’s those shoes. The heels are pretty big.”

“You’re right. Oh my feet are so cold!”

“Hannah, put your shoes back on.”

Pause.

“My feet are so fucking sore.”


2pm

“I think I’ll just have a coke-“

“NO!” shouted the mass of people at my table in unison.

I sighed and looked hopelessly at the waitress, “It appears I’m having a Jack and coke.”

My family cheered and laughed before they returned to their menus, chattering amongst themselves. They peered over each others shoulders to see what their neighbour could possibly be picking and I squeezed Jane’s leg. She gave me a weak smile and I smiled back reassuringly. This was the first time she was meeting anyone outside my immediate family, and later on that night she would be meeting my friends for the first time – a double whammy – and she was nervous.

“Toast toast toast!” they all shouted when my drink arrived.

I looked sheepishly at the glass in front of me and reluctantly picked it up.

“I’m a man of few words.” I said, and took a drink from my glass before setting it down.

Everyone booed.

The dinner was fantastic; I found myself brimming over with meat and sticky toffee pudding. I talked with my cousin and his girlfriend for their take on moving house (“Horrible. Horrible horrible horrible. You never realise how much junk you have until you have to lug it to a new flat) until I was nearly asleep with all the food I had eaten.


5pm

Jane and I sat in a bar with my two eldest cousins and their respective partners, trying not to fall asleep with all the food and drink.


6pm

I’m asleep.


11pm

After we visited numerous overcrowded places in Glasgow, we finally settle in The Garage. Jane and I grab a few seats and talk the night away while taking drink after drink. Owen, being my ever handy drinking buddy, came up with the rule that whatever was put down in front of me, I had to drink. This, unfortunately, meant that I downed a drink of the young couple who sat across from us. I gave them a drunken wave and finished their drink with a smile.


Sunday 14th : 12am

I give myself a silent toast to a happy birthday.


2am

The taxi driver laughs again and falls silent as his attention returns to the road. Owen is talking to Sarah on his mobile phone – her drunk at her best friends birthday party – and Jane is asleep on my shoulder. She really hit it off with my friends; talking animatedly to Jeff and Owen even when I wasn’t there. She was the definition of a lightweight when it came to drinking, so a few alco-pops sent her over the edge. And she really enjoyed herself, which I was very happy about.


3am

Jane has a seizure.


5am

After watching old American sitcoms on TV, Jane and I decide to head back up to bed and catch some sleep.


2pm

After seeing Jane off (and receiving a bunch of flowers from her mum for coping so well with the seizure) Chris, Mum and I head to the other side of town to see a flat up for sale. As soon as we arrive we’re told we have to leave due to a booking fault, and we head back home cranky (sadly the house was sold before we could arrange another viewing).


6pm

Meet up with my brother and have dinner whilst talking about the events over the past few days. I had the steak raw and loved it.


10pm

We arrive at the Rock Café in Glasgow and meet with Chris’ friends. Chris implements another birthday rule; that I’m not allowed to buy a single drink. I am pleased at this.

We sit in the bar and have more than a few drinks, talking about tattoos and films and Adam West;

“Nobody messes with Adam We!”

I’m also introduced to the Jager-bomb. A concoction of two shots of Jagermiester and Red Bull. All the members of the table were staring at me when I was given it, and I sipped it gingerly, expecting for my head to explode of my face to fall off or something.

“Oooh.”


Monday 15th : 12am

We move from The Rock Café and head up to Firewater. The conversation on the way was incredibly interesting, but the content seems to elude me right now.


1am

Singing along to William Shatners spoken word version of Pulp’s Common People. By now I am completely rat arsed and listening to the amount of guys that Mark has slept with (and marvelling at how many of them I knew).

We eventually leave and cross the street to go to the very empty Garage.


2am

Dancing. Lots and lots of dancing. And drinking. There’s lots of that too. Whoo! And more dancing. And theatre dancing. That’s dancing that tells a story, bitch.


3am

We’re huddled low down in the street eating boxes of chips and cheese. It’s strangely filling. Thus far, I have spent a total of £3.50 the entire night.

At some point I leap over a fence to reach an alley way. On the way back from my adventure I leap over the same fence, only to find that the fence was actually a gate that swung open as I was holding on to it.

Laughing ensued.


4am

After finally grabbing a taxi, we are home. Chris pays the taxi driver an extra £20 since someone threw up in the taxi (strangely, I didn’t notice it at all). I climb into bed and sleep.


11am

I wake up, look around, and fall asleep.


12pm

Oh god oh god oh god. Hangover. I want to die.


3pm

I make fried egg and toast. It is very very welcome.


5pm

In work, nursing a throbbing head and dying slowly. They give me a card, chocolates and a HMV gift card, so that cheers me up.


10pm

I’m still in work. Since I am now eighteen I stay in work until ten. It means I receive an extra £3 a day for suffering thirty minutes of soul crushing.


Tuesday 16th : 12am

I am sound asleep.



The final count (to the best of my memory):

23 Jack and cokes (approx) (over 10 of which were double)
6 Aftershocks (4 black, 2 silver)
3 Sambuca’s
3 Vodka and cokes
2 Sourz (apple)
1 Vodka and lemonade
1 Vodka and Red Bull
1 bottle of Blue Wkd
1 bottle of Smirnoff Ice (the equivalent to)
1 straight Jack
1 Jager-bomb (double Jagermiester and Red Bull)

1 fucking big headache
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10 Comments:

At 10:16 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I hope you're very proud.

Such an achievement.

 
At 11:38 am, Anonymous Kiwiqueen said...

Heheheh. That's a lot of alcohol. I'm surprised you sounded so coherent and not half dead in the days which followed!

 
At 8:38 pm, Anonymous Bekka said...

Done me proud, boy.

 
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