Drunken Nights in the Sun with a Hint of Idiocy

This morning I woke up on a couch that had hastily been dragged from a common area in a hostel to the room of 2 Swiss guys that I had met the previous evening with a stinging hangover, partial and sometimes unwanted memories of the previous night. Which would have been fine had I not then discovered that I no longer had my glasses and that the screen on my camera was broken. Ouch.

Thats only the beginning of this weeks stories, a couple more will show the craziness that my life has become. However as my previous readers will know I rate chronology so we shall go back to Monday which contains its own high-jinks.

The day was going pretty normally, my class before lunch had run over by 10-15 minutes so I had told my class to come back from lunch 15 minutes late by way of recompense. Thinking that this would be no problem I headed off for lunch with my Brazilian students to a local Brazilian restaurant as I had never previously tried food from their nation.

The food was wonderful, a lot of rice and beans with some chicken and a substance known as farofa that was good stuff. We had a lazy lunch and I was walking back in the door to the school a couple of minutes late but nothing serious I got a phone call from my boss; enquiring as to where the hell I possibly might be and what on earth was I doing?

I managed to explain the situation but got done over for not letting anyone in the office know what I was doing and was told that this absolutely must not happen on Mondays; new student day. I was then told that I had four new students, smashing my class size up from ten to fourteen. Once everything had calmed down a lot of my students were saying they would like to speak to my boss as they wanted to tell him I’d done nothing wrong: thanks guys and girls.

After class I had to head up to see the boss for a slap on the wrist and a don’t do it again. The rest of Monday was pretty much a write off. Tuesday was my first day in my new big room, which was a problem for my still fading voice. Volleyball after class was again a lot of fun, team Jon’s class were laying people to waste left and right, which had nothing to do with myself and everything to do with Igor, Gino and Sandro, still its nice to be on the winning team, no?

Wednesday’s class didn’t go particularly well, now having six Brazilians and four Swiss in my class meant there was a lot of non-English flying around the classroom, not a good problem to have. Which meant Thursday morning was a riot act session, not something I love doing but it was done and the upshot was a 20 cent fine every time you speak your own language, at last count the pot is up to one dollar, 40 cents from Ana and Mariana and 20 cents from Igor, which is surprising as he is the only Czech in my class, still the rules apply whether you are talking to others or yourself, its only fair.

So now reach Friday, a lovely relaxed day, the first class of the day consisted of playing word bingo while watching Madagasar which was a lot of fun; I also discovered that you notice things you otherwise might not have when watching films with the subtitles on which was interesting.

On Thursday I had finally signed up for Medicare and Friday lunch saw me finally head to see the doctor and he quickly diagnosed me with a case of pharyngitis (sp?), some type of infection in my throat, but they have the drugs to fix and as I speak my voice is coming back in leaps and bounds, yay.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch and it was time to head to the beach and meet my class for a big old barbecue. A trolley was pushed from Coles on the Manly Corso to Shelly beach, maybe 2/3 of a mile away, full to the brim with sausages, burgers, kangaroo and other delightful things. On arrival the beer had been iced and people were already in the swing of things.

Chefs Sandro and Gino started cooking up a storm and I spent the evening chatting away with people from all over the world, the only native English speaker in the vicinity. I was asked to stay out and go out on the night in Manly, which would be a problem as Manly is on the opposite side of Sydney to where I live and the ferry back to the other side is done at half eleven; a problem.

One that was swiftly solved by Reto and Mathias who offered me their floor in the Manly backpacker, with that stumbling block destroyed I of course agreed to carry on the evening, we headed back to get changed and finish off the awful box wine. By this point I was already beyond tipsy and on a course toward fucked.

We headed down to the Steyne Hotel and I remember my first drink or maybe two and then it gets massively blurry, pictorial evidence suggests I made new friends, was really rather drunk however my mind can tell you neither there names or what the hell I was up to.

My memory comes back to me in a random taxi, the cabbie had picked up me and another random guy, which seems to be something okay in Oz, interesting and eco-friendly, but it makes me for meeting some weird people, the man in question was headed to the local brothels (which are legal out here) and couldnt decide which brand of exotica he was headed for. Around the time he plumped for Asians I started to realise that the reason that I couldnt see very much wasn’t only drinking too much but that my glasses were not in their ever present spot on my nose.

I checked my person and found that they weren’t there either; shit. At this point my voice was gone completely as well so the taxi ride was, err, interesting, thankfully I made it to the Manly backpacker, massive thanks to Sandra and Corinna (sp?) for guiding my sightless self to Reto and Matias’ room.

And there they dragged in the couch and I passed out, I woke up to that familiar and unpleasant fuzzy feeling that announced that I had a hangover of rather epic proportions. The correct choice was made: more sleep. When it came to getting up we headed down to the Steyne: have you seen my glasses? No. Shit.

I then had the fun times of taking two ferries and getting some food without the aid of sight, interesting if a little scary. Eventually I made it home and found my spares, the world is now a better place considering that I can see again.

So another of my classic stories that will begin with “we’d been drinking and I’d had five too many….” I still hate the whole gaps in my memory thing and the cost of some new glasses won’t be pleasant but life is good and I feel great so we’ll take the incidental costs on the chin and keep rolling with the punches.

Love and blindness!

J. Xx

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