Beer bar blitz

In true British style I blitzkrieged the bars last weekend, harassing the locals, jibing the bartenders, being loud, drunk and ever so much jolly fun! Ooh-rah!

My manic beer chasing began on friday night as Roberto, Kevin, Eli, Asi and I knocked back a hasty few whilst dancing with old ladies in Virus before Rob and I caned it down to Rafas to dance with fire and shoot the shit with some kids in the calle.

After my class on saturday morning I ran some errands, rented Factotum and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, "Everyone here is heavily armed and drunk.. It's like Gone with the Wind on mescalin!", played a rough and tumble game of football, that almost saw Tom start a fight with one of the fatty pie eating Ticos, went home to shower and change and then proceeded to wander around the post office building downtown looking for the elusive Embajada! That cantina was full of slobbering whiteys and empty beer bottles and I remember having a great time arguing the toss between Cricket and Rugby as the greatest sport in the world.

Anyways, we drank and shouted and wrestled our way through many beers and various shots until we ended up on the main avenue drinking in a mariachi bar where I confused the security guard by asking him about the availability of soft drugs in the area. Unperturbed by his nervous disposition I continued shooting the shit with him before I got bored and wandered home.

Sunday was quiet. I watched those movies, ate some popocorn for breakfast (damn my inadequate shopping habits!) and did some marking before topping off a great hangover by watching the hilarious Borat in the evening. I never knew movies could be so senselessly racist and yet so funny!

Scooba Mopping Robot

Monday saw a return to drinking form at El Cuartel with Kevin, Randall and Alex. We spoke to lots of girls, danced with some more, drank a moderate 4 or 5 beers, Kevin almost got into a fight, some guy and his sister talked my ear off about Monty Python and Snatch - normally I wouldn't mind chortling heartily over British comedy quotes in the midst of crowded, sweaty bars but the guy's favourtite quote was:

"If you hold back anything, I'll kill ya. If you bend the truth or I think your bending the truth, I'll kill ya. If you forget anything I'll kill ya. In fact, you're gonna have to work very hard to stay alive, Nick. Now do you understand everything I've said? Because if you don't, I'll kill ya. "

The night rolled on and eventually I tired of the mainly Germanic meat market and stumbled off to my bed but on the way I was shocked to see a half-naked man jogging down the road towards my house with his equally naked woman friend and a 2 foot machete in hand, scraping it against the railings on his way to God only knows.

I tailed him for a while but when I eventually passed and he started to follow me it was luckily only a short sprint to my front door and the sanctuary of my room.

"If the milk turns out to be sour, I ain't the kinda pussy to drink it."