I just checked out of the hostel and I’m on my own for a few hours until I have to go to the airport and fly to Germany.
Laura and I got...pretty drunk last night. It’s not our fault, really, it’s the hostel’s: they give you these coupons for 2-for-1 drinks at the pub in the lobby when you check in, but they’re only good before 8 PM. I think the idea is that’s just a little bit earlier than most people start drinking, so most people won’t redeem the coupons and the hostel won’t lose too much money, but since me and Laura are whores for a 2-for-1 deal of any kind, we just starting knocking them back early.
(Actually, I don’t know if it’s safe to assume most people don’t start drinking until after 8 PM after some of the things I’ve seen in Aberdeen. But oh well.)
The two of us went dancing at G-A-Y again last night. Ballal and the Lauras and I went there the night before as well, and it was a lot of fun in a way not totally separated from the fact that it was free. I have mixed feelings whenever I go to any gay club -- it’s always a combination of “Yay, these are my people!” and “Dear god, these are my people.” Because it’s so funny to see the same gay archetypes no matter what city on whatever side of the world you travel to. But it’s funny in a way that’s oddly comforting. (Sometimes.)
I like how it’s called G-A-Y. Not GAY, or G.A.Y. (perhaps a clever acronym of some sort). Before opening night, the owner of the club was like, “What can I name my gay club? Maybe calling it ‘GAY’ would be sufficiently gay. No, that’s not gay enough. Let’s spell out the word.”
Laura and I dropped the other Laura at the bus station in the afternoon. She’s spending the rest of the holidays with her family, and while she expressed envy that I was off to Germany and she was going back to rural England, it says something about how much I enjoy her family that I don’t know which I’d rather do at this point.
Before British Laura had to go home, the three of us did a little more London touring, including Hyde Park and well that may be it. Still, as far as I can remember it pretty much completes my checklist of iconic London sights to get out of the way so that next time I’m in town I can dive right into exploring the seedy yet hip underbelly of this rotten town. Sometimes I wish I was a detective in a film noir so I could actually talk like that.
I had to say goodbye to American Laura last night, which wasn’t much fun but we bought plane tickets together to meet up in Dublin in May. She’ll also have to come up to Aberdeen and visit me, although after a city as big and happening as London I’m not sure she’ll find much to impress her in the granite wasteland that is my town. No, I love it, really. I can talk about it like that because I live there. If you so much as breathe a single word against my baby, I’ll fix you so good you’ll be broken when I’m finished. Seriously, why am I not starring in my own film noir already?
# posted by Eric : 10:12 AM
