There Ain't No Devil, It's Just God When He's Drunk

I woke up Sunday morning at 8:30 with the taste of Micky Finns and port making my tongue all fuzzy feeling and an incessant, dull headache that made me want to disappear back into my fluffy sleeping bag for another 5 hours. Yep, welcome back to the Kingdom of Fife.

Saturday was a day of joyful reunions: I finally got to see Scotland play in 6 Nations, which I haven't seen in a year, and they WON! I got to see my friend Blonde H and Amy who I also haven't seen in a very very very long time, and I got to experience my first proper night out since I've been back in the UK. In the wild, untamed town of Kirkcaldy.

After the dominating win over Italy in 6 Nations, Blonde H drove up from the Boarders to pick me up and off we went. Getting to the Lang Toon was no bother, but finding Amy's flat was an epic adventure since Kirkcaldians obvious don't believe in signpost or proper road identification. After driving down every bloody street we could find, we somehow magically found ourselves on the street perpendicular to where we needed to be. Amy was less than useful, and kept giving us directions based on where her old highschool or Asda were, as if we knew where those places were and could be helpful, but in the end we found it.

Now, because of when the game ended, when Blonde H had picked me up, and when we got to Amy's (3 hours later!) no one had had any dinner. So starving, we snacked on what food we did bring- Doritos, Chocolate fingers, Haribros, and pistachio nuts. And then followed it down with multiple glasses of Port and Blue Caribbean (our ghetto version of Cheeky Vitmo), Peach Schnapps and Lemonade, and of course, shot upon shot of Micky Finns. I'm sure my stomach was super happy about all this, but I was in no state to really care.

We got to the club by 11:30, and from there on, everything just kinda flows together. I remember some dancing, being terribly outraged that they don't serve tap water and make you fork out £1.40 for a bottle, and being told by Amy's friends that they hate Americans.

We stumbled out around 2:00 am dead tired and not looking forward to waking up 5 hours later. Poor Blonde H had to work the next day from 11-8. Ouch.