What are you doing today ?

[hector]

The individual words look like English....

yet it makes no sense to me at all

[Norm]

faaip wrote:
But is this the way to amaryllis ?

I got it - not contagious either!

[Sara]

Mealy c**ks at dawn!

[rab_rant]

Mealy c**ks at dawn!

Is that a duel at daybreak where the male private parts of the protagonists engage in some sort of swordsmanship?

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[BobHirst]

Took my 7 year old grandson to the local go-kart track. We had a couple of games of putt-putt golf and then he drove the kids go-karts by himself. Then I drove the grown-ups go-karts with him as passenger. Had him screaming a couple of times (I hope with enjoyment).
Then we finished off with a few games in the video arcade. Had a great time and I hope he did too!

[Sara]

Is that a duel at daybreak where the male private parts of the protagonists engage in some sort of swordsmanship?

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I don't know, I'm still trying to imagine how the word 'mealy' applies in this context.

Never mind, Bob had fun!

[Norm]

I know what I was doing 36 years and two days.ago.

17/2/1984

We had landlord/landlady friends who managed the "Prince of Wales" pub in Clapham, about a mle from Clapham Junction station. Debbie was in Washington D.C., stationed at the Naval Security Station, serving the last 9 months of her 4-year Navy term, and I was going to join her for 7 months, having got 3 months leave with pay and 4 months without. I stayed overnight with our friends in Clapham because I was due to travel on a "Gatwick Express" from Clapham Jcn early the next morning in time to catch my "People Express" flight to Newark at 10:30. Well, I proceeded to get rat-arsed and somebody finally hinted I should get to bed soon at about 03:00. Boy did I sleep or, more likely, pass out.

Anyway, no seconds at all had elapsed when there was a bit of a disturbance in my drunken Force - like my friend Rose yelling at me to get up because it was 08:30 and I should have been at Gatwick by then. I staggered to the shower, sluiced and shampooed my hard-to-find limbs and dried the bits of my body I could still feel and recognise, got myself dressed, still wet in parts, got my suitcase and carry-on bag and set off for Clapham Jcn a mile away. I like to think I walked erect and purposefully, but I was still so drunk it was touch and go whether my feet would hit the floor separately, as opposed to a drunken hop.

Luckily I didn't have to get a ticket, just show them my travel pass, so I stretched out in the first class and promptly fell into another stupor. We must have arrived in Gatwick station on time, and thank the Lord the train terminated there or I would otherwise likely have awakened in Brighton. The guard took his duties seriously and woke me up.

I eventually lurched off the train after trying to open an outward-opening door inwards. The guard sighed and said, "Push it son, just push it." So I did and promptly stumbled onto my suitcase, but recovered nicely I thought - well, 10% of us on the scene thought so. Then I found the luggage travolators from the platform to the level above, so I didn't have to carry everything up the steps. Now, as observant people will have noted, there was one baggage carrier for up traffic and one for down. Having that essential knowledge did not bring it to mind quickly enough to be of any immediate use, and I remember (and wish I didn't) wondering why my suitcase and travel bag kept coming back to me!

Anyway, I managed to get my ticket, paid the fare (with PE you paid as you got to the check-in - a practice which eventually bankrupted them) and wondered where to while away the 30 or so minutes until plane departure. So, I showed my resilience and fortitude, and promptly went for a pint.

Please forgive my inane ramblings

[rich_leeds64]

I know what I was doing 36 years and two days.ago.

17/2/1984

We had landlord/landlady friends who managed the "Prince of Wales" pub in Clapham, about a mle from Clapham Junction station. Debbie was in Washington D.C., stationed at the Naval Security Station, serving the last 9 months of her 4-year Navy term, and I was going to join her for 7 months, having got 3 months leave with pay and 4 months without. I stayed overnight with our friends in Clapham because I was due to travel on a "Gatwick Express" from Clapham Jcn early the next morning in time to catch my "People Express" flight to Newark at 10:30. Well, I proceeded to get rat-arsed and somebody finally hinted I should get to bed soon at about 03:00. Boy did I sleep or, more likely, pass out.

Anyway, no seconds at all had elapsed when there was a bit of a disturbance in my drunken Force - like my friend Rose yelling at me to get up because it was 08:30 and I should have been at Gatwick by then. I staggered to the shower, sluiced and shampooed my hard-to-find limbs and dried the bits of my body I could still feel and recognise, got myself dressed, still wet in parts, got my suitcase and carry-on bag and set off for Clapham Jcn a mile away. I like to think I walked erect and purposefully, but I was still so drunk it was touch and go whether my feet would hit the floor separately, as opposed to a drunken hop.

Luckily I didn't have to get a ticket, just show them my travel pass, so I stretched out in the first class and promptly fell into another stupor. We must have arrived in Gatwick station on time, and thank the Lord the train terminated there or I would otherwise likely have awakened in Brighton. The guard took his duties seriously and woke me up.

I eventually lurched off the train after trying to open an outward-opening door inwards. The guard sighed and said, "Push it son, just push it." So I did and promptly stumbled onto my suitcase, but recovered nicely I thought - well, 10% of us on the scene thought so. Then I found the luggage travolators from the platform to the level above, so I didn't have to carry everything up the steps. Now, as observant people will have noted, there was one baggage carrier for up traffic and one for down. Having that essential knowledge did not bring it to mind quickly enough to be of any immediate use, and I remember (and wish I didn't) wondering why my suitcase and travel bag kept coming back to me!

Anyway, I managed to get my ticket, paid the fare (with PE you paid as you got to the check-in - a practice which eventually bankrupted them) and wondered where to while away the 30 or so minutes until plane departure. So, I showed my resilience and fortitude, and promptly went for a pint.

Please forgive my inane ramblings

Great story Norm, we’ve all done those type of things knowing we have to get up early for holidays, work, days out etc but can’t help but have that extra pint or 6 to completely ruin your next day, at least you did the right thing and had the “kill or cure” pint at the airport.

[Norm]

I think it worked too Rich but I was still a little under the weather when I got to Newark over 8 hours later.
One for the ages!

[Sara]

Engaging account, Norm. Need to know what happens next...

[Norm]

Willco Sara - have to be later though as busy this morning.

This should be my 6,000th post

[Norm]

Although I remember the events previously described with a horrible degree of clarity, I don't remember too much detail about the flight itself, more a hazy recollection, except that I was glad to be able to sit at the back, traditionally the safest place to be seated in an aircraft with wing-mounted engines, and top up my by-now lower alcohol levels. As this was before the total smoking ban on most commercial airliners, I could also top up my nicotine and cigarette-based carcinogens as well. Bear in mind this airborne sicknote carrier wasn't just a 747, it was a People Express 747, where the sheep, had there been any, would have been grateful and standard runt-class accommodation comprised almost 500 seatlets with only some of the leg room needed by most medium-sized dwarfs. It was actually simpler to stand up and smoke, which the back 6 or so rows of people could do back then. It more resembled a naughty good-old-boys and girls club, about 15 of us smoking, swigging from cans of lager and telling jokes as we tooled along 7 miles up at mach 0.85. Luckily the only turbulence, on this cloudless bright day, was internal and it was thus a rare event to find a middle or rear lavatory unused or without a queue.
Back to People Express; my fare for a 1-way crossing of the pond was $99.00, but any food or drink apart from water was extra. So, I sat down on my cushioned double-thimble, consumed my $15 sub and $6 beer (this was after several more of the $6 items before I sat down!!!) and proceeded to unconsciousness without passing ‘Go’ or collecting $200.
I awoke about 3 hours later, as we were on final approach to Newark, my bladder screeching at me to do something just as they had told us to stay seated with seatbelts fastened. Luckily my bladder won and I waited until we were almost at the gate before I entered a lavatory against the steward’s express wish, after telling him that I would pee in the lavatory, in his pocket or on the floor, but I wasn’t peeing in my own jeans. He seemed to recognise the irresistible logic in that, also that he wasn’t an immovable object, so all was well.
Anyway, Debbie met me after Immigration and Customs and I was ever so glad and happy to see her. She raised an eyebrow and smiled at my occasional stumble, but knew me too well for explanations to be necessary. I remember that she took me to the Anchor Inn, a bar on the Naval Security Station, and we proceeded to imbibe several more in what had become my third session in 30 hours (if I include the $6 specials on the plane), though nowhere near the levels of the previous night. It was overall a heavy 30 hours.

Thank you for reading

[Sara]

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...

[Norm]

Poor Rebecca, and the girl who fell from the balcony, but the rest was hilarious Sara - you are a colourful raconteur.

Debbie was chuckling this morning too.

I don't have many tales of debauchery, only taking, or being given, the opportunity to misbehave comparatively rarely.

However, given some of your stated background, it sounds like you could have a wealth of stories of when you and others with you have been temporarily unleashed.

Interrailing...?? Hmm!

My equivalent would be that I get free rail travel in a certain number of 48-hour periods in several European countries each year, but haven't used that facility since 1987. Debbie and Michael get less 'parcels' than I but still sufficient for a decent touring vacation. However, your 'Interrail' sounds like something far more interesting because of the company you'd probably have been keeping.

[rab_rant]

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...

Writing your name in the snow with pee is easy for a man... in this world of equal opportunities I would like to see a woman attempt that.

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[Norm]

rab_rant wrote:

Writing your name in the snow with pee is easy for a man... in this world of equal opportunities I would like to see a woman attempt that.

Me too but I always was a pervert.

I'm told it could be easier with the use of a funnel Rab

[rab_rant]

Me too but I always was a pervert.

I'm told it could be easier with the use of a funnel Rab

Especially when drunk and off balance.

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[Sara]

Writing your name in the snow with pee is easy for a man... in this world of equal opportunities I would like to see a woman attempt that.

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You would have to be able to stem the flow between the 'b' and 'R'. Women are generally better at this than men. Besides which, you haven't seen my signature; quick wriggle and hey presto, it says 'Sara'.

[gessa]

You would have to be able to stem the flow between the 'b' and 'R'. Women are generally better at this than men. Besides which, you haven't seen my signature; quick wriggle and hey presto, it says 'Sara'.

Wriggle or widdle

[gessa]

Just back from a walk down the Caledonian canal, had sun, rain, strong wind a heavy hailstorm and snow then back to sunshine and that was just the first mile and a half, you have to love Scotland.

Wedding anniversary today so out for a nice meal at the local hotel tonight. Sampled some of the dishes off the menu on Tuesday night and it was delicious, then we had the added bonus that we didn't know about but they are doung 2 for 1 on mains throughout February.