Leeds United Chat • Re: What are you doing today ?
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Thanks for sharing, Norm, that raised a chuckle, and brought back memories of various debauched journeys. I don't think I've ever been drunk on a plane though, and the worst ones I remember seem to come from adolescence, when my self-destructive urges were stronger than they are now.
The earliest such memory is a school skiing trip to Austria. The snow came to meet us halfway, and we were stuck in the dilapidated coach for 36 hrs, with nothing to sustain us but our haul of duty free. An all girls private school, the regimen was strict in some regards, but in others they didn't seem to care what we did at all. Health and safety hadn't been invented; so, a coach load of 15 yr olds, smashed on vodka, tequila, anything, chain smoking Rothmans and Cafe Creme cigars to stave off the hunger. For most of us it was our first experience of sustained drinking, and also of pissing on the roadside. It seemed we entered a parallel world, where the smoke filled bus existed alone in a twilight landscape of hilarious yellow snow. The only tape we had was Bowie's Spiders From Mars, played on a continual loop. Our sense of time was warped and distended, but we knew that five years was all that we'd got.
The next discovery was the enhanced effects of alcohol at high altitudes. We took the chairlift to the highest bar and drank strong lager from litre steins before inexpertly affixing our skis and launching ourselves down the mountain. Carnage ensued. Most of us lost various combinations of skis, poles, clothing and dignity before finally sliding back down to the resort on our arses. My friend, Rebecca, was not so lucky; one ski failed to detach when she fell, she rolled, and broke her leg in six places.
The evening entertainment was a disco/ bar where we played drinking games involving filling communal ashtrays with white wine and vodka, and requiring the 'loser' to consume the contents. Vomit in snow has similar properties to urine, in that the heat melts convoluted cavities. I believe there is an artist who makes sculptures of the shapes produced.
We shared the hostel with a group from a Catholic school, who were, if anything, worse than us. One night, a friend who was on some medication which didn't mix with alcohol, became very confused and started speaking in tongues. We were gathered round her bunk to offer encouragement and catch her revelations, when there was a shriek from above followed by a thud from below. One of the Catholic girls had fallen from a balcony. There was a commotion, there were flashing lights, there was something that sounded like a respirator, there was my friend's delirious commentary. We never found out what happened to the girl, but her party left the next day.
Our last night was new year's eve. I'd been drinking rum and coke for most of the day. I'd been sick twice. As midnight approached, the local bar gave everyone a free glass of schnapps, to be downed in one as the bells rang. I kept mine down for about four seconds, and it came up pure, looking and tasting exactly the same. I've never had it since.
I didn't learn to ski, but it was good preparation for the interrailing trip a couple of years later...
The earliest such memory is a school skiing trip to Austria. The snow came to meet us halfway, and we were stuck in the dilapidated coach for 36 hrs, with nothing to sustain us but our haul of duty free. An all girls private school, the regimen was strict in some regards, but in others they didn't seem to care what we did at all. Health and safety hadn't been invented; so, a coach load of 15 yr olds, smashed on vodka, tequila, anything, chain smoking Rothmans and Cafe Creme cigars to stave off the hunger. For most of us it was our first experience of sustained drinking, and also of pissing on the roadside. It seemed we entered a parallel world, where the smoke filled bus existed alone in a twilight landscape of hilarious yellow snow. The only tape we had was Bowie's Spiders From Mars, played on a continual loop. Our sense of time was warped and distended, but we knew that five years was all that we'd got.
The next discovery was the enhanced effects of alcohol at high altitudes. We took the chairlift to the highest bar and drank strong lager from litre steins before inexpertly affixing our skis and launching ourselves down the mountain. Carnage ensued. Most of us lost various combinations of skis, poles, clothing and dignity before finally sliding back down to the resort on our arses. My friend, Rebecca, was not so lucky; one ski failed to detach when she fell, she rolled, and broke her leg in six places.
The evening entertainment was a disco/ bar where we played drinking games involving filling communal ashtrays with white wine and vodka, and requiring the 'loser' to consume the contents. Vomit in snow has similar properties to urine, in that the heat melts convoluted cavities. I believe there is an artist who makes sculptures of the shapes produced.
We shared the hostel with a group from a Catholic school, who were, if anything, worse than us. One night, a friend who was on some medication which didn't mix with alcohol, became very confused and started speaking in tongues. We were gathered round her bunk to offer encouragement and catch her revelations, when there was a shriek from above followed by a thud from below. One of the Catholic girls had fallen from a balcony. There was a commotion, there were flashing lights, there was something that sounded like a respirator, there was my friend's delirious commentary. We never found out what happened to the girl, but her party left the next day.
Our last night was new year's eve. I'd been drinking rum and coke for most of the day. I'd been sick twice. As midnight approached, the local bar gave everyone a free glass of schnapps, to be downed in one as the bells rang. I kept mine down for about four seconds, and it came up pure, looking and tasting exactly the same. I've never had it since.
I didn't learn to ski, but it was good preparation for the interrailing trip a couple of years later...