Saturday 23/08/08

Its Thursday today. Its taken me all week to try and find a way to make a story about Saturday night without mentioning a certain aspect of the night. However, this story isn't worth telling without it.

Saturday night was Innovation. For those that dont know, it's quite possibly one of the, if not THE biggest Drum 'n Bass event of the year. Attended by myself obviously, Mike and Phil but the night was fairly uneventful and isn't really worth telling about unless you were there. Everyone was pilled up to the max. And like a dirty little sheep I conformed. Admittedly it's the first time and the last I will do that shit.

Me and Mike popped a Loveheart (powerful) at around half 3 in the morning and we were buzzing off of our tits till around 11am.

I remember that the women there were unbelievable. Walking around in hot pants and bras, camel toes and nipples poking through. However, tonight was about dancing, not being on the pull. This story is purely debauchery.

The shennanigans didnt really start until we left the club. Walking from SEone at London Bridge to get the N15 nightbus from Eastcheap just before Fenchurch Street. We picked up a guy along the way with his girlfriend who lived near us. He threw his guts up before he got on the bus... and during the bus journey.

Phil, crashes out in the luggage rack on the bus. Me and Mike leave him and go upstairs to find proper seats. Back seats. SCORE. We stretch out. Mike feels sick. His face looks yellow. I tell him he looks like someone from The Simpsons. We are so out of our box. We cant stop smiling at eachother. Everything is funny. Two indian guys sitting next to Mike are talking..in Indian. To us the sounds like some sort of Drum 'n Bass rap. We start dancing, still sitting down.

Mike starts to fall asleep. Oh wait, hes gone. Snoring away, still with a huge grin on his face. I took it upon myself to take a picture.

Unfortunately the flash woke the bastard up, otherwise I wouldv'e got a few more. He looks up at me. Calls me a cunt and demands that the picture doesnt go on facebook. (I kept my word. It's on here instead.) He looks around him, opens his legs, leans forward and vomits all over the bus floor. Everyone on the bus looks at him, for a second. Silence, literally for a second, then carries on with their conversation. Obviously, people vomiting their intoxications over the bus is normal.

Im not happy. Now I have Mikes hot sick splashed up my trainers.

Mike: That's me done. I feel better now.

Bill: Fuck you dude

I send Phil a text.

Bill: Dude Mike's just thrown up everywhere. Come upstairs, theres seats here.

Phil: Dirty bastard. Na mate, im all stretched out in the luggage rack, much better.

Bill: You dickhead. We're on cushions. Mike's been sick and we're still comfortable.

Phil: How long does this journey take?

The journey takes about an hour and a half. I tell him this.

Me and Mike carry on with the banter. Laughing at everything, smiling, dancing, singing. Im fairly sure everyone else on the top deck of the bus is getting pissed off at us. We are being loud, but we are so out of our nut that we couldnt care less. I feel sick. Really sick. All this laughing. All the bumps, starts and stops from the bus. Looking at Mikes yellowness.

Mike's phone falls out of his pocket, into the puddle of sick. He swears. Picks it up, wipes it on the seat. He looks at it. The camera's lens has smashed. He is really pissed off now.

I find it funny. But then everything is funny.

Mike recieves a text from Phil.

Phil: How long does this journey take.

Is he fucking serious?

Mike calls him back.

Mike: It takes the same time minus the time we've had you fucking idiot. Come upstairs theres loads of seats.

Phil comes up. He looks ill too. He's as white as a whores spit cup, eyes watering. Still smiling though. He's out of his nut too.

We all chat a bit more until Phil gets off the bus. Me and Mike decide to stay on and get a cab, despite that walking from this stop would be faster.

The closer we get to the last stop, the more sick I feel. I pretty much fall out of the bus. And projectile vomit up a bin. Not in the bin. Doing my bit for the floor you see. A guy is standing at the bus stop. See's me vomit and walks off. Fucking imbecile. Hasn't he ever been so heavily intoxicated before that he throws his guts up? If not, he needs to get a life. Theres nothing I like more than getting heavily intoxicated. Any way. The bus stop that we are sitting at is about 10 yards in front of the cab office. But its raining fairly heavily. And we are so out of our nut that we act like the rain might kill us. So we sit for a good half hour staring at the floor and wait for the rain to stop.

It doesn't.

We get bored and just get a cab.

The cab driver is playing Indian music. Of course. We find this funny.

We get back to Mikes at around half 5 and sit in his shed. (Its not just a shed. It has a sofa) etc. And we chat shit for several hours, smoke, and try to sleep but fail. The buzz was still there at 11 am, so much to the point that we got bored of it.

The pills did make me hallucinate. Around me I could see people dancing. They werent just silhouettes. They were vivid people that I could see. They were dancing to the drum and bass that I could hear in my head. At one point i said to Mike "This bitch of a woman keeps dancing in front of me. Shes pumping her face into mine. I wanna strangle the bitch, but she aint real." At least I know a sense reality when I'm buzzing from pills.

A good night for us. But unfortunately not for you to read about. If anything particularly Alpha Male-ish did happen. I dont remember.