Pub crawl in London has commenced. Believe it or not, we actually created our own crawl. How, you might ask? Well, I met a friend on the hour walk from Victoria Station to my hostel near London Bridge. I was walking, marveling at the blurs of red and electric white that is London and I did a double take at this girl dressed in a t-length coat with straight bangs that were on point. She saw me do the double take because I’m as discreet as a sloth in a Speedo. “Uhh, I know this is weird, but I wanted to let you know, you’re really pretty.” “Oh, while thank y-ou!” She replied in a chipper British accent. “You’re welcome,” I smiled kindly and returned my eyes to my path. “Well, we have to be friends now!” Instantly, we became just that. Laughing about coffee, Americans, boys, dating apps… it was only a 37 minute walk to her place from our meeting spot. We passed Big Ben under painful construction, the London Eye, and nearly made it to the bridge when she asked what my plans for the evening were. BOOM. New addition to my Irish friend- working on the United Nations over here! Before arriving at the hostel, a guy with blonde curly hair was about to cross my path on the sidewalk. Smiling, I was shocked when he addressed me, “Ello gorgeous.” He kept walking, as did I, but boy am I gonna like it here! THEN my friend from Dallas booked the same hostel as my Irish friend and I, and he joined our Irish, American, and British alliance. We started drinking in our hostel bar because British girl glamorized and took longer than a dress change and hairspray. While sipping, my Irish car bomb (hehe couldn’t resist) was approached by a Frenchie who began macking on her pretty hard. I kept an eye on her, but returned to the bar for another pink gin; while in London… ;) While at the bar, my travel buddy from Dallas stood next to me and before he could even say hi, a middle-aged man with tan skin walked up to me and said “You do something sexual and beautiful to me.” And proceeded to the other side of the bar. My jaw agape, my friend said, “did he just….?” “I am so glad you heard that!! That kinda shit happens to me all the time!! That’s why I have a dating blog. You wouldn’t have believed me if I told you that, would you?” “Stephanie, write that shit down.” Laughing, I tanked my gin and we returned to our Irish Coffee and gathered her to meet up with our English Bulldog (okay, I may have went too far on that one…. I’ll take the tube back). /an outlandish compliment or two!Following the lead of the local, we walked to a bar with a club upstairs. This was the first country in Europe I was IDed… interesting… Then, once upstairs we began cracking up when the bartender denied us glasses and handed us our cocktails in clear plastic cups. “What’s up with…?” Nicola, the Irish friend inquired. “There’s too many fights with glass, we have to resort to plastic for safety.” Her face said it all. She looked at me, advising me to rally the troops before her attitude mirrored that of the glass-cracking hoodlums. Motioning to the remaining members of our United Nations, we found ourselves on the way to a club near Piccadilly Circus, the going-out-hub. The parchment-colored buildings were lit like a Christmas tree. The strangers passing by absorbed the shine only for a moment or two, and then disappeared into the night. There were bright screens, aspiring to one day measure up to Time Square, flashing advertisements and double-deckers buzzing the scene to remind you of the royal red in their British flag. Although gaining admittance into the final club was quit hazy, I do remember the music projecting onto the dance floor was quite nostalgic. Early 2000's American Pop looped in the underground club, while our alliance dispersed to find strangers to interpret the music with. I lost track of the guy of our group and my Irish friend, but our Brit was clearly doing very well with a cloud of guys lingering around her like smoke from a cigarette. I swayed with a drink I believe the Dallas guy positioned in my pale fingers. A well-dressed Arabian strutted towards me with a confidence I couldn't imitate if my life depended on it. He flashed a smile and stepped into the rhythm my hips had found minutes prior. After proving he could keep pace, he slowly positioned his right hand on my left hip. Returning his smile, we danced for more songs than I can remember. That song bled into the next and then another. A blonde guy with a boyish face but a muscular build fanned me over to him. "Noooooo," I mouthed, playfully. "You come here." Responding as if I was speaking another language, he said, "Wut?" in possibly a Scottish accent? "If you wanna dance, come here," I smiled coyly. After the biggest eye-roll I've seen since puberty, he stayed in his position. Laughing, I began scanning the room for my friends. I easily located our Brit friend, since she was dancing dangerously close to a shiny stripper pole. Moments later, I located Dallas and Ireland posted at the bar. Making my way over to them, I felt a brush on my shoulder. The Arabian was back for more. Smiling, I said a simple, "hi." I continued to walk towards my friends. I have very little memory of what was said, why we left, or when we left, but I can assure you, we left. On the way out, after we climbed the nearly 384 stairs up to ground-level (probably no more than 15), I vaguely remember seeing our Brit in a carriage with a guy. "Oh! Goodnight!" She bellowed. "Goodnight," I bellowed back with a half-drunk smile (I think... it could possibly be a variety of that word... a synonym maybe?). Then, according to the Dallas guy from our group, my Irish friend and I insisted we stop at a bakery before returning to the hostel. THEN, apparently I was "being goofy with the cashier and got a free cheese pastry." I guess my stomach thanked me in the morning because I had no hangover :)) My Irish friend can't remember if he was cute and our Dallas dude is.... well, a dude, so he wouldn't answer the question. He said he thought I was, so that's all that matters; ha! First night partying in London, with a local as a guide, was a succulent success! :)) Crumpets' succulent stature compliment our drunken venture like they compliment tea at tea time. |
AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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