Drunken Travels

I made a whistle stop tour of Lisbon last week.  I was only there for 3 days and most of it, to be honest, is a drunken blur.

After landing in our hotel (not literally, we had to get a taxi from the airport…) to torrential downpour we found our way into the Bairro Alto – which is the nightlife area.  This was only after getting dropped off, at the wrong bar, in the middle of nowhere.  Brilliant. 

Within 2 minutes, we were greeted by Mr Portuguese man in the street asking if we wanted drugs (nice welcome).  We politely declined and took shelter in a nearby bar. 

A few more bar visits through the long and winding streets followed; including gate crashing some family karaoke party and belting out the hits.  Pissed Englishmen…on Portuguese karaoke…yep it was as good as you can imagine. 

A friendly cab man then found us a bar/cafe which was open all night after we found out the bars by the docks were all closed.  We somehow managed to get back the hotel at 7.30am – most of it was a blur, it seemed like we were only in there for an hour. Total wrongness.  Again I’m sure the proprietor loved us, they did keep serving us Super Bock all night anyway..

superbocknormal Thursday was a total blur again, I literally have no recollection of most of the day/night.  Only two minutes ago did that Portuguese karaoke thing come back to me.  I’m sure I was alive through adrenaline and alcohol alone.  But again we managed to find our way to the open all night bar/cafe and got back the hotel at a similar ungodly hour.  Not good when we have an 11am flight.  I was woken after a 30 minute “snooze”, in good comic book fashion, by my mate showering me with water. Grreeeeaaaatt!

Although having made the airport in good time, and the obvious long gaze into space, wondering why I’d punished myself with alcohol and little sleep did me no good.  I was about to go to the bar again only to hear my name get announced over the tannoy “last call for Mr C Sribble your flight is now closing” or something like that.  When the fuck was the first call?

I’d always wanted airport fame and now I had it, but fuck me it was a bad time to get it. 

“haha there’s them two knobheads who are about to miss their flight”

…is what I always say when I see people running through a airport terminal.  I was now that knobhead. 

Luckily, we made it onto the flight after the air stewardess search party greeting us half way round telling us we had to leg it because we had about 30 seconds to get on the plane. 

I was informed that “you fucking stink” on the plane – luckily only by my mate, but I’m sure I wasn’t in the best of states to others either.  Ho hum (literally), I’ll never see them again. 

Lisbon, it was a pleasure – or at least I think it was.

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7 thoughts on “Drunken Travels

  1. Are you sure it was only a 3 day bender, you seem to have been missing for weeks. I put up missing signs and you now officially a Milk Carton kid. I’ve had to go across the pond to find some interesting bloggs to read.

    Made the plane by 30 seconds – that’s lightweight, I made a plane by minus 12 hours once* (which just happens to be the last time I had a drink) . My bender saw me waking up the wrong side of Passport control with a stewardess slapping me around the face a number of times calling me a complete barsteward** and giving me a ticket to Minorca, which was not particularly helpful as my holiday was in Ibiza. It’s a long story and I will blog it one day when I have a slow week…

    * Technically and if you are going to be picky, I guess you could call it missing the flight….,

    ** I expect if that happened today I could have had her for assault, but in those days (the early 80’s) she probably would have only charged me more for using a fancy title…

  2. You really did piss it away then. Perhaps you will remember more after a lot of water and sleep.

    I would have like to have see the karaoke though. Brilliant!

  3. BlackLOG
    That milk carton seemed to have done the trick then! Nah, I’m struggling with this place at the min, don’t know what to write about/put posts together and I don’t believe in writing for the sake of it.

    Sounds like your drunken adventures were better than mine haha!

    S. Le
    The karaoke was a ‘lowlight’ I think :p

  4. I go into paranoia mode in airports and whenever I have travel type things to catch. I dread the day that its my name called out over the tannoy at Heathrow, but I think everyone has it at least once in their life. Welcome to the world, monsieur.

  5. Drunken blurs are bound to happen when people and alcohol mix.

    No tattoos, no internal organs missing, and no weddings performed is usually a good sign that things were all right.

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