Hip hip horray

---

Birthdays should be celebrated, and celebrated well. Which is why I was not going to let a 14hour work day stand in my way.

To backtrack ever so slightly I have been fortunate enough to find employment within Europe’s biggest premium spirits trader, so apart from the free gym and cheap cafe, I get fantastic perks whenever the company is launching or promoting one of their brands, which is often.

With the goal to save as much as possible (to work as little as possible in the summer) I also work nights at a bar. A dingy establishment where locals stop to drink their life away. Filled with baby boomers and illegal immigrants (mostly Kiwi) the bar is quite the laugh.

As a local bar filled with the same faces each week, I have managed to become fond of each of my drinkers, and they in return of me, so when informed of my impending birthday they were all keen to help me in the celebration, not that they needed an excuse.

The eve of the night in question, the patrons refused to leave before the stroke of midnight, so that they had the chance to be the first to sing me happy birthday, a touching, and slightly off key moment. So when I finally went to bed and woke for the next day of work, I was already tired.

Finishing one job to get to the next, I was greeted warmly and was quick to accept the drinks that kept being offered. Bloody Marys and Sambucca shots were the theme of the night, and I was quickly shaky on my legs. The owner relieved me off my shift early and I joined the others on the better side of the bar.

I can’t quite recollect all of the events of the night but I remember that I had a good time, surrounded by good people.

Roaring drunk and stumbling left right and centre, my hero of the night carried me home, which took quite some time, not only because I am heavy, but he had never been to my house and I was not much help with directions.

I awoke this morning to find myself snug in bed, water bottle within reach and my shoes neatly side by side.

What a darling.

---