Beer keg (or why it is not a good idea to wear a skirt to an American party)

Well, it was a busy weekend.

On the Friday, we jumped in the car to go to a Kings of Leon concert, which was great, despite a rainstorm. There were about 40,000 people there, mostly drunk, but there was no trouble. From what I have seen, Americans are quite laid-back and friendly; more likely to help a stranger than most Brits with our don't-look-and-you're-not-involved mentality and less likely to initiate a fracas. Leaving the stadium with the crowds I couldn't help thinking to myself that, if this was Glasgow, fists would be flying.

On Saturday (after our obligatory exercise class), we went for lunch to an American grille. I had requested that we go to this place (to which I had been before) and my sister was initially reluctant as it is apparently patronised by a more "down-market" class of person. Perhaps it says something about me and my natural place in the social hierarchy that these are often the kind of places that I like and in which I feel comfortable. It's a funny thing i have noted that raucous youths and swearing never sound as bad in a foreign country. Normally bad language offends my delicate ears and it is all I can do to stop myself standing up on a bus and announcing in a formidable tone "There are ladies present!" to any foul-mouthed reprobates present; but obscenities in an Irish or American accent sound quite twee.

After lunch, we went to the cinema to see The Time Traveller's Wife. This got me thinking, "Is time travel real?" (I mean, Back to the Future seemed fairly plausible, right?) I made the mistake of speaking this whimsical conjecture aloud to my more scientifically-savvy sister who pooh-poohed the suggestion outright . However, on "Wikipedia-ing" the concept (which I understand is the favoured method of research for senior engineering professionals), I discovered that, whilst it hasn't been proved to be possible, neither has it been proved to be impossible.

Hmmm...I'm going to be thinking about this some more....

Then it was back home to get dollied-up for a house-party. We were joined in the house by my sister's female housemate (she who laid claim to a weight of 1 million lbs in my previous blog) and her boyfriend - dubbed "Boo-Boo" by my sister's AWOL male-housemate. The dressing was an exercise in itself - I discovered that I had not matched my shoes to my outfits with sufficient care when packing and (more traumatically) my feet had swollen up to the size of a hobbit's; my sister underwent numerous dress changes because she "was just not feeling" her outfit; and female flatmate thought her dress "made her look like she was about to give birth" (Boo-Boo's eyebrows rose up in alarm at this point). However, eventually we were ready to go (Boo-Boo immaculately attired in a jaunty lounge jacket).

At the party I was introduced to the complexities of "flip cup", an American drinking game that involves (you guessed it) flipping cups. I actually proved to be pretty adept at this game of extreme skill, although I may have been helped by an alcohol-induced decrease in hand-eye coordination affecting the opposing team.

Later on, I encountered another staple of American parties - "Beer Keg". This involves being lifted up and turned upside down and drinking from a beer keg. Now, as I don't like either beer or being held upside down, I didn't think this game had much to offer me. My sister appeared to have other ideas, slightly mixing up her UK and American terms, she squealed -

"I'm wearing a skirt, everyone could see my pants. Get my sister to do it - she is wearing pants!"

But after my glory at flip cup, I thought that this was the time to gracefully bow out, pleading my ignorance of such American antics.

After these light-hearted high-jinks, the atmosphere has turned slightly eerier in the past few days - but more of that in the next blog.....

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