And One for Shots

And One for Shots

            Today was little William’s 23^rd birthday!  I signed us up for a pub crawl in the evening.  Will decided that for his birthday, he wanted a relaxing day of movies and Deadliest Warrior.  He was really sleepy, and he needed to save his energy for the evening’s festivities.  We watched three episodes of Deadliest Warrior, as well a movie called Black Death starring Boromir.  It was great.  It was motivational and had an uplifting ending.  Also, someone gets drawn-and-quartered (hooray!). 

            While we were watching movies, someone came by and gave us free Belgian chocolate.  It had a sweet picture of cool stuff on it.  Check (Czech) this out.

            We went to Green Tomatoes for dinner and marched to the pub crawl.  Will and I got there a bit early.  In fact, we were the first ones there.  We had a beer while we were waiting.  We also talked to the bartender.  I explained that it was Will’s birthday, and he is now only four years from being a broken old man.  I should probably explain this.

            One day, Will decided that at the ripe age of 27, he would be a broken old man whose only purpose in life is to sit in a wicker rocking chair and tell crazy stories in a raspy voice.  He will also be sporting a shotgun and a bottle of Jack Daniels Old No. 7 Tennessee Whiskey.  Now, he is not suggesting that 27 is old.  In fact, he thinks 27 is the prime of life…for people who aren’t him.  At 27, I will be young and virile, and Will will be old and broken.  So it has been written, so it shall be done.

            I didn’t explain all of this to her at first, so she was taken aback until I did.  She also gave Will a free birthday shot.  Of abstinthe.  It was to be the first of many.

            Will’s mission for the night was to do 24 shots: 23 for his birthday, and one for good luck.  Beer did not factor in.  By the end of the night, Will succeeded.  He had 24 shots and ??? beers.  I had 7 shots and ??? beers (I think one or two more than Will, but…24 fucking shots, so it doesn’t really matter).  We went to four bars and a five story dance club, the biggest in Central Europe. 

By the end of the night, Will had some choice quotes.  Most of them related to me not drinking as much as he.  He was annoyed that I wasn’t keeping up at 3 : 1 drinking ratio with him, and he began to comment on this.  All of his comments were loud as hell and angry.  Most of them related to Quebec.  There is a reason for this.  I’ve had exclusively bad experiences with Quebec and people from the region.  In fact, my experiences have been so bad that I am not really fond of either. 

Will Quotes:

1.      “You double fist shots, or you are Quebecquoius forever!  You will never gain American citizenship!”

2.      “You double shit that fist!  Right now!” (I hadn’t complied the first time he asked)

            It was amusing.  Will took a little nap on a bench in the club while I danced.  Then, we decided to head home.  On the way home, we stopped in a McDonalds.  I ate some fries, and Will ate a cheeseburger.  When trying to order it, I kept asking for Will’s preference, “Just cheese, meat, and ketchup.”  The guy kept saying no, and insisting on “ nothing special.”  I agreed, but it simply wasn’t in the cards.  Will’s cheeseburger had a pickle in it, which he angrily tossed onto his tray.  He then devoured it while half asleep.

            Our hostel was in the cabaret / strip club district, so people were constantly asking us to enter their club, take their pamphlet, or something along those lines.  The conversations usually went like this:

Guy:  Hey, boys!  Boys!  You want to come to the cabaret?

Me:  I don’t pay to see boobs.

Guy:  What, you don’t like girls?

Me:  No, I just prefer to see them for free.

Guy:  *stunned silence*

            Apparently, not paying to get with / see girls is abnormal here?  I dunno.  Anyway, we were almost home, and Will started getting irked with me for some reason.  I didn’t notice until he started headbutting me.  Then, he started slapping at me.  These actions were accompanied by grumbly noises.  When we finally got into the room, he pounced on me while I was in my bed, slapping away.  However, his plans were foiled by his drunken balance.  He was soon on the floor, between the beds, where he grumbled some more and went back to his own bed. 

            It was truly a birthday to remember.

Will’s Corner:

            Fun times.  Don’t worry about it.

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Dear Joe,

            You don’t need a birthday to have a party.  Every day is a party with you!

Love,

Will and Andy