The return of the unruly American

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It must be said upfront and with emphasis. I LOVE London. I have no idea what it is about the place, and I haven't spent much time here, but for some reason I just love the place. There is something about the combination of chaos and history and beer and sandwiches (have I mentioned the sandwiches, prepackaged and awesome).

I decided to do some cultural shit and check out the British Museum. Where do I start. The Rosetta Stone... Well, it certainly is a stone. That is undeniable. Yep, a fucking stone. That's about all I can say about that one. The rest of the place was actually really cool. It was like stepping into Iron Maiden's Powerslave album cover. Very cool. Egyptian shit, damn that is impressive. (I think it's time to shift gears here, nobody reads my blog to hear cultural shit. You're here for drinking stories and profanity.)

So, it's Friday, so there will be some happenings tonight, I'm sure of it. I ring (using the local slang here) my friend Chris and we meet up at a bar, not sure what it's called, but a bar in a foreign city is kind of like a one night stand. Yeah, getting a name is nice, but really not vital.

Chris and her friends really roll out the hospitality and I end up not having to pay for a single drink, good times. Plus there were rounds a plenty, very good times. Really, a quite lovely evening. Old friends, a nice patio bar, and plenty of beer. I end up in a cab with a 10 pound note in my hand. Moments later I am back at my hotel, with the thought of how damned early it is in my mind.

What is a boy to do? Well, I hit up my room and drag my roommate (Ian from Edinburgh) out for more drinks at the pub down the street. We both have to get up very early the next morning but what does that matter? All I know is I end up walking down the street with a cheap souvenir t-shirt and a few pre-packaged sandwiches (bacon and egg) in my hands. I may be overstating, but this might be the best night of my life.

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