Luckily, I convinced my new friend Sylvia to come with me, as it was a Friday night, and really, what else is there to do? Sylvia is very cool and I'm glad we've become friends! She's 26 (I think) also from the states, and doing a 10-month horticulture work program thing with the RHS (royal horticulture society.) She'll only be in Guildford for a few more weeks, but she'll be moving all around England over the next year-ish, so I'm sure we can make it a point to meet up in different cities. :)
So we popped over to Bar Med, across the street from the Y, for a pint and ran into another YMCA-er, Tim from Germany. It was nice to have people to go out with on a Friday night, as I haven't really had any evenings out on the town. The football-viewing-in-pub was a bit of a let down, to tell you the truth. There are a few answers as to why that was the case. One being that England did REALLY terribly in the World Cup, and English fans are some hard people to please! Secondly, this was just the beginning stages of EURO qualifications, so it was a game that didn't really have a lot of weight. Lastly, it was a game against Bulgaria of all places. Not really a big football rivalry there if you know what I mean..... Anyway, as we were enjoying the game, some guys at the bar next to us ordered drinks that looked peculiar, so I ask what they were."Jager Bombs!" they replied "would you like one?"
"No. yes. No.."
So without hesitation, the boys ordered more drinks for us, and bottoms up!
*Now, a quick note on culture vs. culture
As a respectable and responsible young professional woman, I always drink in moderation, watch my back and my surroundings, and make sure I don't embarrass myself. Also remember that I'm in Europe now, drinking is not the same as it is in the states, there are no frat boys, and most people go out drinking at night just to have a good time and meet new people. With that said, I am proud of my collection of pictures and the fun I'm having in my new home :) (This disclaimer is mainly aimed at my mom, who is probably freaking out over the photos.)As it turns out, these gentlemen were Scottish members of the British Army. Very very entertaining scotsmen, they were, too.
They were nothing but pure fun and silliness the whole night, just up for good conversation and dancing at the club. They're from Glasgow, Scotland, and are in Guildford taking a course for the Army doing something or other. Each of them is in a different section of army-ness, but somehow they all act like brothers. Incredibly immature brothers.... Let me introduce you to them! First up on the left in these pictures, is Sean. He's a tank operator.
He's also the first one to offer us jager bombs, so naturally I couldn't say no. He has a RIDICULOUSLY Scottish accent. It was definitely a challenge to understand everything that was being said between the accent, the alcohol, and the always loud music!
He kind of reminds me of Steve-O, no? ---------->
Sylvia and Tim don't agree at all.
<---Next we have Ian, known to his friends as Eggy. (Please don't ask, cuz I have no idea why!) He's a combat soldier (i think? does that make sense? no, maybe not) and very smart. He's got his 10, 15, and 20 year plan all figured out. He's been saving money, bought a nice house, will rent it out to someone while he's serving, the tenants will pay off his mortgage, and when he's ready to retire - with pension - he'll have all the money he's been saving, a payed for house, and a nice little spot to call home and make haggis. Not bad planning for a 19 year old.
Lastly is Damien (Damo). He's not any army man, he's an Airman! I was reminded of this several times that night. Damien was definitely the most willing to dance, even though it was Sean that suggested going to the club.
Sylvia claimed that Brits can't dance, and decided to show the boys how its done. Here's what THAT lesson looked like:
Check out those moves! ->
Thank god Damo was so good natured about the dance lessons!
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Amazing!Besides the dancing, and the drinking, we took alot of pictures. I think they came out rather well, what do you think?
Needless to say, we had an AWESOME night!!I have no idea if I'll ever see these guys again, but the memories will last.
(God, that was cheesy! Sorry, readers)
Finally, at the end of the night, we made a startling discovery as to what English people eat after a night of drinking. Every culture has their late night, post-bar refuel food. For those of us from the Tri-State Area, it's late night greasy diner food. In Brooklyn, it was Chicken Spot. In Manhattan, it was Chicken N' Rice. In Frankfurt, it was Doner Kebabs. In Spain, it was Churros y Chocolate. So what was THE ONLY option for sustenance after hitting the bars?
Yes, ladies and gentleman, Burger King.
American fast food.
That's what the drunkies eat on Friday night.
I had no choice.
So I bit the bullet (haha, that shouldn't be a play on words, but it is!) and ordered from BK.
But you know what, it was late, we needed carbs and protein, and as the saying goes, When in Rome!
I've been here for a week, and I've already met amazing people, gotten my barrings on the town of Guildford, and am loving life! As always, I hope you enjoyed the latest installment of my travels abroad!
~ Sie
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