Afterwards we stumbled over to The Court, which is a local student pub, and remained there till we effectively could no longer stand up straight. How many rounds did we have? I lost count, but I knew that I was even drunker than I was on new year’s eve, if that’s possible. Now whose clever idea it was to have this event on a weeknight, I do not know. I could not fall asleep afterwards – I effectively lay there for over six hours with my eyes half-closed, nursing a splitting headache and trying to convince myself that the room was not actually spinning, even though the floor seemed to be moving in one direction and the walls in another. Quite disconcerting, actually.
I now know that what happened on new year’s eve meant absolutely nothing. (To be fair, it might have meant something but I’m not going to waste time figuring which bits did or did not.) Maybe it’s been awhile since I’ve gone out so frequently and experienced what alcohol does to your judgement or inhibition. But I do know this - it certainly meant very little.
L'Esthete @ 14:09
