Hallowed Een
CANADA | Wednesday, 4 November 2009 | Views [73] | Comments [1]
What up my homies, it has been a crazy mad week in the city of Van, and it has only cemented the rightness of my decision to never to the ever grow up.
So, we'll take it from last Saturday. Last Saturday we had an 'H' party.
Unless you would like the response "Because the last one we had was an 'G' party", don't ask why we had an 'H' party. This is information that I have to work with.
The fancy dress for the night out had to be "H", not the dead guy from Steps, but anything to do with the letter would suffice. There were horses, horse trainers, hippies, housewives, heartless bitches, a hammerhead shark, Horatio from CSI, a hotdog, The Hulk, The Hoff, high rollers, Hunter S Thompson, a home wrecker, hockey players and straight out hari cari.
As a quick sidenote, the knowledge of the Scottish culture over hear ranges from Haggis to Burns to Connery. We know Canada for the maple syrup, the mountains and the lumberjacks. Oh, and they have seen Trainspotting.
Dressing as a heroin addict came quite naturally to me to be honest. Shopping for clothes in a thrift store - standard.
Buying items in a pharmacy that would normally need an explaination yet for the oasis of don't tell/don't ask that is the pharmacy counter - oh yes. Putting on makeup - not as often as you'd think.
Scaring the squares - textbook these days.
The idea for the night was a pub crawl the week before Halloween, for the hell of it, and the first bar was an RSL. They counted in the sexy girls, all the old boys commenting on each and every lady that crossed the floor, until they saw me and did a double check with the door guy. There we met Hulk Hogan.
As the night continued in a blur of taxis and line jumping we picked up a whole lot more H worshipers, and by this time the drink was kicking in and my veins were screaming for sweet release. Whether I'm just a straight out weirdo or whether I'm funny to people other than myself remains to be seen, but meeting strangers and asking for a loan of some money 'til tomorrow didn't go down with everyone, although one guy had to be stopped when his wallet came out. The wonderful Jax made sure I got into the same taxi as her and we headed to the 3230 Bar.
"Where's in's the hell's that Jacqueline?"
"That's our house"
"ooh"
I fell asleep sitting upright on the sofa wearing sunglasses, and a rather large Irishman thought I was trying to stare him out, for like 15 minutes. There are photos on the way from the night.
I should explain the 3230 Bar. Imagine if the TV series Friends, take out the angst and all the crap, add the social equivelence of BBQ sauce and let me stay there for a week. I met Jen in Melbourne in the Ritz, and her and her AMAZING friends have taken me in and made me feel at home instantly. Jax and Jen live together, they are the hardest working / partying / kindest angels. There's the superduper Alex and Mags upstairs, and the
ifididnthaveJulieasasisteralreadyidTOTALLYtakethembothonwithaplomb Liv and Claire. Not a shadow of a doubt that this is the best start to a social life I could ask for. These six girls are closer than close, they've adopted me as one of their own and introduced me to ALL of their friends, who are all sound too. Well happy with my temporary lodging in Kitsalano.
It's even got my name on it. If I spell it wrong.
Sunday was a return to Jeramiahs, for French toast and poutine. Then it was sofa and pizza. Then it was Messy Monday, random unplanned drinking on the day before Tuesday.
Then it was Wednesday, where we were going to another party. Back into heroin chic a little bit too easily for me. We arrived at the party and met everyone instantly, there were only five guys there after all. Once again, these mens were all sound as a Scottish pound, and after a few drinks and a few hours some more people turned up and the party got going.
That's when the police arrived.
Apparently in Canada you don't ask the neighbours to turn down the music, you straight out call the cops. The party was in a basement flat, and the music was loud, so we didn't hear the door. It took for the officer to come around the side of the kitchen, kneel down and knock on the window for us to notice them. That was when the host, dressed as a Priest, appeared to punch the window out. I'm sure he didn't mean to, but that's what we saw and that's sure what the policemanofficer saw.
Party over.
Except we took it to Club 3230.
We partied downstairs with L&C, even raising Jen out of bed at 2am and giving her a drink. Didn't do much on Thursday as I remember.
Friday night was good, I went back to the hostel to meet ole George. On the way down the street I noticed the possibility of rush tickets at the Vogue Theatre. G turned up just in time, we ran up to the Vogue and purchased two half price last minute tickets for "Evil Dead: The Musical". I'd been wanting to see it since I arrived, and to catch it on the second last performance for just $25 made me very happy. 
Saturday - Halloween.
They really like Halloween over here. Really really.
I dressed as a Scottish ninja. Never heard of one? That's because we're highly trained. Everyone broke out new costumes for the third fancy dress party of the week, there was a flasher, Little Red Riding Hood, plenty of pirates, cowgirls, 80's chicks.... We hit a bar before going to a rugby party at a brewery. Thankfully they had just two members of staff on the bar, otherwise we might have been able to get a drink. After a couple of hours of threatening everyone with my Celtic Chop we headed to a house party in the middle of the financial district, it was the only house on the block so it wasn't going to get closed down.
It looked awesome, pretty much like a frat house. People on the porch, in the garden, on the roof - nearly everyone in fancy dress - I was looking forward to getting involved. It was a shame that a transvestite who wasn't in costume grabbed Little Red Riding Hood's bum three minutes after getting into the kitchen. sHe wasn't all there, even waving our hands infront of hir face brought zero response. Weird, time to go.
I was promised a strip club, but we ended up in a megaclub. Not a club that is better than all the rest, a club that is bigger than all the rest. All the rugby girls and boys we'd met were there and we succumbed to the crap music for a bit of a boogie.
Got home(ish) meeting the Joker from Greenock on the way. He didn't like me commenting on why bringing full highland dress for a three month holiday is excessive. Stuff him, he's from Greenock.
Back to Jerry's (where they know my order already) and sofa and pizza all Sunday.
Then a Messy Monday last night. Madman Johnny is a bad man.
Outside of drinking and partying I got a job at the amusingly improbably named Future Shop, as a Sales Associate. This is not the dream, but it'll help pay the high rent over here, when I leave Hotel 3230.
In other words, I've done things around my hard living, Mum and Dad.
al
Tags: drinking
Comments
Add your comments
