One Hundred Sixty-Second Entry

Left work early today. I didn't feel that good. I think it's post-vacation depression. Don't worry, my life is in no danger.

Thought I should write this funny story into my blog.

The Last Night in London

Last Friday, I got back to the Astor Hyde Hostel in London and met up with Lisa. We got our dirty laundry together and did laundry at a laundrette down the street about 5 minutes. After that, we went back to the hostel and up to our room to start packing. Our plane leaves at 11am the following day.

Our plan was to wake up at 6am, get ready and be at the airport by 8am. Good plan.

Our Italian roommate Stefano comes in and informs us we are going to go downstairs to the bar and drink some beer. Lisa and I try to tell him that we have to get up really early, but you know those Italians...persistent. We cave and start to go to the bar. Lisa remembers that she needs to buy a magazine and goes out to a news agent on Queensway. So that leaves me and Stefano going drinking in the bar.

We drink, we smoke. There are not that many people in the bar. It was only 10pm. Two of Stefano's countrymen arrive in the bar and he tells them how he taught Lisa and I Italian cuss words. I have to practice my Italian for them. "Succia il mi cazzo, figlio di puttana!", "Vafanculo" and "Faccia di merda" are my favorites. A little while later, Stefano remembers what he calls the most important Italian word, "Pompino". (I will not sink to the level of writing their translations in English...I'll let this website do it for me. Italian Cuss Words

After a while (another pint and three or four cigarrettes), Stefano leaves and goes to pick up a friend that is staying at another hostel. He tells me to wait for a ten minutes. I says OK, fulling intending on leaving as soon as he does and going to sleep. He takes off, and I finish my pint and cigarrette, when a Scottish guy comes and plops himself down on the seat next to me. He asks the barkeep for a pen and paper. He starts to write a note. It reads: "Excuse me, but will the hat buy you a drink?" I could barely keep from laughing. He was wearing a very Lisa-esque ear-hat, but twice as big (it must get colder in Scotland).

He turns and asks me if he spelt 'excuse' right. I said yes. He takes off into the next room and comes back without his hat. Almost immediately, he expresses regret for leaving his hat. "Ah should've ahsked fu me 'aht bahck!" I nearly split at the seams! (At this point I just finished my third pint) I told the guy he needs to go get his "aht bahck". Sensing some good comedy, I went ahead and ordered another pint.

The Scot went back and got his hat. I asked him if his note worked. He murmured something incoherent and inaudible. I asked him to repeat. Again, incoherent and inaudible. I just started laughing and he said something about his accent. We talked for a little bit. It was really hard to understand anything he said!

A few minutes later, the girls he was trying to buy drinks for came to the bar. He turned to me and said "Thaht's 'em!" He takes off his hat and askes Fabio, one of Stefano's friends to pass it down the bar. Fabio passes it to Antonio, another of Stefano's friends. Antonio doesn't know what to do with the funny 'at. He looks at the Scot with a look of bewilderment that just cracks us up. The Scot tells him to put it on the stool beside him.

The Scot yells at the girls and points to his hat. They give him the weirdo eyeroll and a half smile. He dismisses it and gets his hat back. The girls get their drinks. The Scot motions them over. They come over and we start chatting. Celia, from New Zealand, and Laura, from Washington DC. Very nice girls. The Scot excuses himself because he is tired and needs to sleep. He takes off and I chat with the girls all by myself. Liquid Courage, don't fail me now.

We chatted for about an hour about tons of stuff. Celia is in London working in an Art Gallery as a receptionist. Laura is in London working as a Tele Marketer, asking people about whether or not they like Rugby. Very interesting! The whole time in my head..."pompino, pompino". Definitely Laura, but possibly Celia.

We had a very interesting conversation. I bought them a drink each, and another for myself, my last for the night (I needed to save at least four pounds for the Tube Extension to the airport). After a while, I realized that a "pompino" was not in the cards. So I just enjoyed the company from then on.

After a while, I excused myself and went to the toilet. After what must have been the world record for the longest urination, I returned to the two girls and we talked some more. Their mental patient of a roommate Jean-Batiste showed up after work and talked for a while. He was easier to understand than the Scottish guy, but that's not saying much. Jean only stayed for one pint and went to sleep.

After about 'alf 'our, Celia and Laura decided it was time to go to bed. I bid them good night and good luck with their jobs. I looked at my watch, half past two. Jesus. "Lisa's gonna kill me for sure."

I stumbled upstairs and snuck into the room. Lisa was asleep. I quietly laid on my bed and awoke to Lisa waking me up, three and a half hours later. Time to go to the airport.

The End