Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Anarchy in the USA (Part I)

It seems I must start this blog with an apology. Much to my surprise it would appear that my exploits have proven of interest to some of you and as a result my blog appears to have developed a small following. As a result, I seem to be getting some pressure to put out these blogs faster than I have been and the gap since the last blog it seems is particularly long. Hopefully you'll understand why when you read this. Before I continue with a description of my exploits over the last week let me just say that I now have some tiny inkling of how George R R Martin must feel. Of course, despite the sympathy the man still really needs to get on with his blasted book.

Today I thought I would explain what I have been up to since my last blog so hopefully you will understand why it has taken so long. I'm sure most of you will have seen films such as "Dude Where's My Car" and "Road Trip" and the like in which some poor American lives through complete anarchy for a few short days for the entertainment of the masses. I'd always assumed these were sheer works of fiction but after the weekend I've had I now realise that these films must be documentaries.

To begin the narrative, I'm going to lay the blame squarely on the shoulders of one single individual: David Buckingham. As some of you will know, Mr Buckingham and one of his colleagues came out to New York last Thursday and it's been a rollercoaster ride ever since.

The first highlight of the weekend was Friday when a number of colleagues and I attended the MLA dinner function at the Chelsea pier. This was a wonderful event and a fantastic experience which allowed me to meet a number of individuals in our market as well as proving to me that you really can have decent food at these functions. The one stifling point of the evening was that my colleagues abandoned me and fled to a nearby bar without saying goodbye (apparently they thought I had left). As a result, Mr Buckingham and his colleague kindly offered to share a taxi back to our neck of the woods when we decided to visit a local bar...

The bar in question was a lovely little establishment by the name of Ulysses. As many of you know, I worked for a number of years in the R&B room of a nightclub but I swear to God even in the three years serving a bunch of horny students I never saw anything that paralleled what befell us. Having been in the bar for approximately 2 1/2 minutes David decided to retreat to the toilets. No sooner was he out of sight than a young lady moved in for the kill with me and Dave's colleague.

Many of you are probably wondering why this was a problem? Well, to begin with Dave's colleague is married and was hastily trying to show polite interest so as not to be rude whilst also ensuring that the lady in question knew he was out of bounds. All the while nervously twirling his wedding around his finger with a look of mixed desperation and awe. The second problem was one of age. For those of you who have visited Hull, I think this girl would have been refused entry to Spiders, the almighty haven of underage drinking itself. If I had thought to ID this girl I think she may have produced a Toys "R" Us membership card. And last but not least was a question of consciousness. When asked what she did for a living the "lady" in question could not seem to decide whether she was in marketing or a student. Personally I think saying student was pushing her luck but there you go.

Having deftly fended off the munchkin's advances, we were presented with the second opportunity of the evening. I will point out at this stage we had still only been in the club for approximately 5 minutes. Dave, having returned from the toilet in time to watch the final stages of the previous show decided to return to the toilet as he was feeling ill. Interestingly enough, this was the precise moment we were set upon by a pair of lovely ladies from Minnesota. It's like they were hunting in packs, I swear. These ladies decided that Dave's colleague really needed to remove his tie (we were still suited and booted from the dinner function) and that both he and I must ballroom dance with them.

Dave's colleague was feeling the full weight of the Wedding Ring of Damocles by this point and to his eternal credit (and fidelity) managed to politely decline. I sadly got to embarrass myself thoroughly by demonstrating that not all Englishmen can ballroom dance and thereby defeating the American theory that any male from England is actually Huge Grant. Nevertheless, the ladies were more than happy to oblige until Mr Buckingham returned, at which point it was like a screaming child running through Trafalgar Square scaring all the pigeons away.

That was the end of Friday night but this teen comedy is far from over, however to hear what happened next you'll have to tune in next time as the above events have taken significantly longer to recount than I had thought.

To give you a taste of what is to come, next blog will include the trials and tribulations of ordering a full Irish breakfast, the return of the Wedding Ring of Damocles and a guide on how NOT to watch a baseball game.

1 comment:

  1. very amusing Robert, you have done it again. The most amusing part is your comments on Huge Grant - Dragon having an off day maybe lol.