gcb: cheeses and whiskys and beers, oh my!

(image links in this post might be a bit awkward, but you should be able to at least download and then open them. Sorry, technical problems are tougher when you are traveling! -gcb)

Once Grizzo and I had thoroughly embarrassed ourselves and our erstwhile hosts, Hannah and Max, Camille showed up and immediately addressed our needs.

We sat down at the little kitchen table with our glasses of scotch and debated the most important decision of the day: given that Grizzo and I had slept about 10 hours between us over the past 50+ (that's 100+ between us), and that Camille had an exciting event that evening to attend for which she had already purchased us tickets, should we:

A. Pass the F out.
B. Fill our bodies full of mind-altering substances and go party with the Londoners.

The fact that we were even discussing option A is a sign of age, and you've probably already guessed which way we chose.

So off we go, after a shower, a whiskey or two, a coffee or five, and a lot of babbling, into the real London, the live London, the London of delicious, cheap Indian food and a destination which is completely unlabeled and for which the only directions are horribly vague.

The first bit went quite well-- we wandered through some neat areas and found a fabulous Indian storefront where we spent almost no money on some delicious samosas and other small items that we munched as we wandered toward the venue.

Once we were in the general area, Camille suggested that since we had 45 minutes to spare, we should hustle to the nearest pub, which is how we ended up at "The Gun" and enjoyed our first pint of English Bitter. There were big screens showing football matches and British people downing pints and smoking. And a bunch of hilariously old handguns tacked to the walls.

After we left The Gun, Camille led us round and round in circles trying to find the venue for the party. She didn't have directions, just vague instructions which were clearly insufficient. She commenced calling and text messaging the people involved, who were all too busy setting up the party to reply or answer.

Then some crazy blond girl walked up behind Camille and started making strange faces and invading her personal space. Camille didn't notice. So the girl started leaning against her. Grizzo and I both wanted to say something about this, but were too disoriented to know what to say. Camille finally noticed the girl, who was, of course, one of her loopy theatre friends. Since London is a large place and this Kat character wasn't just some weirdo off the street, Grizzo and I figured she was our salvation and would lead us to the party, so we got super pumped.

Turns out Kat wasn't even going to the party, so she just distracted us from our search for a little while and wandered off. Then we followed Camille's instructions again, only this time they worked.

So, this party was apparently some sort of fundraiser for a theatre company called Fluff. It was cabaret-style. There were cheap drinks and lots of food, almost all vegetarian, laid out on tables of 8 people. Prominently featured were a tasty couscous and 3 or 4 gigantic hunks of tasty cheese (per table) with ample baguette.

We bought these adorable little half-size beers (Munsterbrau-- French not German despite the name) and met the Brits sharing our table. I'd tell you that we impressed them with our American wit and charm, but that's probably not true since Grizzo and I had barely slept for about 50 hours at this point and we were sitting there slack-jawed except when we were pouring beer down our throats or mumbling incoherently.

Happily for all involved, the stage was soon occupied by a spectacularly overdressed fellow whose humor was just low-brow enough to be coherent to our alcohol- and jetlag- addled brains. There were about 12 acts in the cabaret, and I half-slept through any of the ones that weren't loud, vulgar, and fast-paced while still sitting up in my chair. Meanwhile, Camille and Grizzo kept bringing me tiny beers. It was strangely reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland. Somewhere along the way I refused an opportunity to go up on stage and get naked in front of 100 or so British people who don't know me from Adam.

Once the performance ended, I figured we'd head back to Camille's place and, at long last, pass out. Instead, we stood up while tables were pushed aside, garbage was gathered, food taken to a sidebar, and a space cleared for dancing. Grizzo had somehow come into his 4th or 5th wind and he and Camille found me in the restroom line and talked me into finding mine, too. Then this horrible, drunken, uncouth, loud Welshman in the line said horrible things and made us all feel uncomfortable, so Grizzo and Camille wandered off and left me alone with him.

Anyhow, I eventually escaped and Hannah and I were soon out there getting the dance party proper started with Grizzo and Camille, and we kept dancing until the owner of the space came by and closed the party down, with only a brief break for a photo op with the incredible table of cheese. Even then, I bought 6 tiny beers for the ride home (1 for each American hand) before wandering out into the streets of London.

After a bladder-straining bus ride back to Camille's flat, Hannah and Max made us tea (how British!) and we all stayed up chatting for an hour. Or rather, Camille and Hannah and Max chatted while Grizzo and I tried not to pour tea on ourselves as we nodded on and off in our seats.

All in all, it was an auspicious first day.