Everyone's slick covered in cologne and fancy clothes. They belong together, all dressed up and ready to mate but I don't fit in quite well. It's obvious. My gray hat and pants, and green checkered shirt make it obvious. That night I left my swag back at the hotel. They're about to enter a club called "Punk" standing in a cue ready to give the doorman the 5 pounds just to get in. I wanted to get in. But as soon as we stood outside I realized I'd be like a geek lost in a sea of hipness, coolness and machoness. But the night was amazing as I got complimented that I don't look like a goat, got to judge on a random girl's tits and high fived her for having an abortion because I thought she was joking around. But let's take things from the start.
Next place we decided to explore was Soho. After, taking a full ten hours sleep we woke up ready to face the day. Feeling less like Indiana Jones and more like 5 year olds on Christmas Eve. At least me. We got ready and we went to Camden for breakfast and some shopping. We failed miserably to look like any of the characters from Sex & The City as we'd discussed we'd look like, and I feel quite happy that we didn't. Even when we went to check out for some more shoes the clumsiness, goofiness and inappropriate jokes muted the femininity of that activity.
After a couple of coffees, couple cigars, a couple more cigarettes, window shopping and trying out instruments at different music stores, we decided that it was time for us to get back at our lovely hotel room, relax for a bit and get ready for the night.
We passed by the Electric Ballroom and there was a huge line full of glam rock guys and girls. Torn tight jeans, high nike shoes, guys with leopard tights and girls with short skirts and ripped stockings. It was a spectacle but we didn't stay to look at it for long. Just passed it by.
Drank the last 2 Bodingtons that were left in the hotel's fridge and headed out. This time we went at a small restaurant and had something delicate and also cheap to eat. I ate mine and the left overs from my friend. That's how I express my delicate feelings when it comes to food.
Then we decided that it was high time to decide where to go for some drinks. We went to a corner shop bought a can of Becks' beer each, they put it in a brown bag for us and we sat outside a bar to drink them. Outside one of the bars there was a "pack" of pretty girls. Nice dresses, high heels, they looked tipsy and boarder line classy. We kept taking sips from our beers checking out the people who entered that specific bar. Mostly suits, mid 30's and girls in nice dresses. Came to the conclusion that it was not for us. Hang there for some 30 or so minutes more.
Then the endless search for a bar to have a quiet nice drink began. We kept on walking and walking around for at least an hour. Stood outside that club "Punk" that I described at the beginning, walked in a hard rock bar to use the toilette and decide that it was crap and it doesn't fit our needs apart from the toilette part. Passed by a small hardcore/punk bar that we said we should avoid it and try something different since we're in London. Tried to get in a nice jazz bar that had a live band playing. I put out my cigarette, we ask how much is it to get in, the doorman with no shame says "30 pounds" I burst out laughing. We keep on walking.
After 3 full rounds around Soho we ended up at the hardcore/punk bar that I can't remember the name of. The doorman is a guy in his mid 30's, beer belly, bald spot and tattoo filled hands. We ask how much to get in. He says "4 pounds" and there's a live band playing. We enter. Unlike the other bars/clubs we stared and contemplated of getting in, we feel welcomed here. No funny looks. It feels friendly and it feels warm. Just like your home's toilette. Only bad thing, the band that was playing is packing up as soon as we make it in the main room.
Beer was 3,50 and spirits 3.70. My friend sticks with beer and I decide to get jack daniels and coke. First 3 rounds are on him cause I'd paid for food and the entrance. Then I decide to get some rum. Sailor Jerry and coke. My friend gets another beer.
As we're in the smoking area, having a cigarette, making plans for when I get back home and discussing many other different things a girl comes up and asks us where we're from. I say Athens Greece. She turns to her friend and they both smile. We start having a conversation. They're both from London. Well, one of them the most drunk is from Liverpool and claims to be John Lennon's grand-daughter. I claim to be Frank Sinatra's grandson just to balance things. She doesn't believe me. Her loss.
My friend asks them what they do, how old they are, trying to make a conversation. They say that they're both "sluts, working as hookers, on a street behind the bar" we were in. They also mention that they need no pimp cause they're self-employed and they're their own bosses.
The drunkest girl keeps asking me if I'm related to the Kardashian family because of my accent. "You're accent's weird...are you related to Kim Kardashian..." I tell her that Kim Kardashian is hot. She bursts out laughing at the way I say "hot". I decide to play along and say that I am indeed related to the Kardashians. My friend confirms that. From that point and on I AM A KARDASHIAN= UNSTOPPABLE.
The drunkest girl keeps on talking and talking about nothing and everything. I look at her friend and she says "I'd look at you the same way if I were you. I've no idea what she's on about." I smile. Then she turns and asks me "what do you think of my tits?" I say that they're alright keeping calm but howling on the inside. She presses them up and comes closer. "No take a closer look! Would you pimp me out? I don't need a boob-job right?" I laugh and confirm her that she doesn't need a boob-job and that her tits look fine.
Then she continues talking explaining us how she wants to have 5 kids but she already had an abortion. I think she's joking and I say "high five killer". She laughs and high fives me but then she gets the joke. "Hey that's not funny!" Her friend laughs though. I apologize and she accepts my apology.
After a while and while my friend is inside getting another beer for him, she gives me a hug and tells her friend how I remind her ex boyfriend. She asks me how tall I am. I say 5.6 or 5.5 but no more than that. She finds my shortness adorable and her friend tells her that I look nothing like her ex boyfriend cause I don't look like a goat. Then the drunk girl asks me to go like a goat for her. I pass.
Then they turn to eachother and start talking in Italian. Another guy comes over and they ignore me completely. Then after 5 minutes they start walking away. "We're leaving bye" and they wave at me. "See you later have fun..."
p.s: that's not me in the picture.
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