I did take enough science to know that Mammoths don't exist anymore (of course kids in a lot of states don't learn about that anymore) but this guy looked real enough to me. Not real enough to scare me but real enough to make me think about all those commercials for Night at the Museum. And then the lights flashed and thunder music played and I squealed like a little girl.
I even did the Joey Lawrence "Whoa."
I'm not proud y'all.
J and I spent the morning Saturday and the Royal Museum and then goofed off around the city. We bought legal narcotics at the pharmacy and took a nap. And then we met our friends for the evening.
It started out nicely enough, a fun dinner at an Irish pub, a couple of vodka gimlets. Then J had to take care of something for work so we decided to wait for him at this trashy bar in our hotel. It's deliberately trashy but fun in a goofy way and once the bartender figured out the gimlet (gimlet count at this point four) we were good to go. Until a guy named Kevin plunked his ass down next to me.
Kevin was trashed (and we were headed that way) and despite my protests that I was married (he was married too and showed me his ring eagerly--they always do that and then they try to grab your tits) settled in. But things weren't going his way so he decided to call us all war mongers and baby killers. A DELIGHT THAT KEVIN.
So we skipped out once J arrived. That bar wasn't that fun that night anyway and who needs to be called a baby killer by a smell Canadian in a hillbilly bar? Not me.
We ended up at this other bar and it was fabulous. We had a cute waitress who was so nice, kept the gimlets coming and convinced the DJ to play cheesy eighties music for the old people.
This is where it gets fuzzy. I know that somehow our friends convinced the DJ to play Def Leopard and Journey. That the entire bar sang along to Journey but somehow the dance floor cleared during Kiss. Except for us. I know that I spent a lot of time talking to our waitress (after she was off) about massage therapy (she is studying) and what to do when a client gets a boner (happens a LOT). I know that I had to do a lot of fast talking when J tried to take a call in the ladies room (the bouncer was not amused). And I know it was a bitching time. We even drunk dialed DelSelva who apparently couldn't hear a damn thing. Which is too damn bad because we had the waitress squealing "I WANT ON HIM" into the phone. We even got her replacement (nicknamed Sparkly Whitney) to do it.
When I say we I mean me. I charm the ladies apparently.
We were all a little out of control. J and I had done Jaeger shots (I am not officially a frat boy and yes I FEEL SHAMED) and one of our pals was doing Goldschlauger. Nothing good comes from Goldschlauger. So we were headed back to the hotel. They were at a different one so we split up.
We get back to our room and we having shall we say . . . marital moments (and oh lord, are hotel is such the hookup hotel, five bars in the building the rooms are cheap and most feature a whole lot of mirrors you know what I mean) and one of our friends calls J. Repeatedly. Seems his girlfriend and him had an argument on how to get back to the hotel and she bolted on him in the wrong direction and now he can't find her.
Glad it wasn't me getting my pants back on to go look for her.
By the time he got back we were even more trashed, I am not sure how that happened since we hadn't drunk anymore so we . . uh ended the evening? and passed out.
Only to be awoke at four in the fucking morning by fire alarms.
SHIT. Must find clothes. Must find birth certificate (note to those thinking bitches should bolt the door wasn't hot it was just smokey). Must evacuate.
We trudge down the stairs onto the street and stand out in the cold and NOTHING.
The fire department is already there but no one is talking to the guests, it's all old ladies and foreigners in the cold out there. Finally J asks if we can go back in and is told it's safe so go ahead. So we go back inside to sleep in smokey rooms (which are excellent for those of us with sinus issues).
I found out later (when I called to bitch yesterday) that the fire was out and a guest pulled the smoke alarm when the smoke came up the elevator shaft. We probably didn't need to evacuate in the first place. GOOD INFORMATION TO PASS ON TO THOSE STANDING ON THE STREETS ASSHOLES.
See. This is why we don't go out and party. I am too old to handle Mammoths and fires and Journey all in one damn night.