Kaka-Doh! (Part 8: The Long Goodnight)

As fun as it would’ve been to party with Beck and Simon, they gave us their final hugs goodbye, and went on their merry way. I hope what Beck said was true, and that the three of us lit a fire under her ass to return to the job next year with renewed vigor. Meanwhile, I could go for one of those about this time; 4 days of no sleep, and I barely had the energy to carry my bag around (now with freshly wet clothing!). But made our way to Vic’s for free mediocre rat feces (referred to by bar staff as “food) we did.

Side note: We know Vic’s is a backpacker bar, because as soon as we walked through the door, a chesty bartendress offered “We have a great deal on jugs of Foster’s tonight!”

After shoveling the garbage into my gut composter, I began to plot how to get trashed with the minimum amount of money. I did not have long to think. A particularly loud and obnoxious MC crashed our table, carrying a fairly putrid (likely Foster’s) jug of beer. “Wanna play a game?” he asked innocently.

The rules were simple. Roll three dice, which have instructions on their faces instead of numbers, and do what they tell you within 30 seconds. Skeptical, I asked what kind of instructions these dice give. Coyly, he responded, “Can’t tell you!” It only took me about 2 seconds to decide “Sure, lets do it!”

Two shakes and a roll.
Dice 1: Hold your nose.
Dice 2: Chug a beer.
Dice 3: Tell a joke.
Simple enough, no?

Pouring about a schooner’s worth into my pint, I held my nose, pinched my eyes shut, and went bottom-up. Now, sculling this amount of beer is not difficult, but cut off from all air, I went even faster than normal, and was still hacking and wheezing when it was all down. John thought I was about to rolf, and took the appropriate steps back. But I couldn’t afford to puke now. With a jug of mediocre yeast piss on the line, I knew I had to go for it.

Between coughing and sputtering, I turned to Lindsey, the only girl left in our group, and told the shortest yet most appropriate joke I could think of:
“What do you call a room full of women on their period with yeast infections?”
She answered with fear and trepidation – “I don’t know”.
Nearly dead, I choked out “A wine and cheese party!”, before collapsing on my stool in victory. The stunned look of total horror etched on Lindsey’s face was just gravy on top.

My recollections of the rest of the night, even now, are pretty hazy. I know I managed to earn our group another jug by successfully recognizing the theme to Jackass. I’m simply glad they didn’t ask me to do a stunt as their follow-up. Lindsey too proved her salt, winning a jug by identifying all 6 Bond actors. Jasper earned our fourth by winning a National Anthem singing contest.

For some reason, Lindsey also participated in this contest, despite not knowing the England national anthem. Instead, she tried for Spice Girls. Gold star for effort. She also tried to teach me Salsa dancing, despite losing a dance contest with David earlier in the night. George, whose name I now discovered was actually Gary, spent most of the night complaining to me about the war between England and Argentina over the Falkland Islands (those little rocks between South America and Antarctica) that occurred about 20 years ago. Jakob and Martin chatted in a corner, while Jasper left early to go home with a girl. Apparently, not only does beer make straight guys gay, it also makes lazy eyes straight.

The only play I got was a girl who accidentally spilled her fruit cocktail on my lap, before force feeding me the alcohol-soaked strawberry in a way her ethanol-rattled mind must’ve rationalized as sexy before walking away. No gay waiters this time.

John simply nursed the same beer all night and watched the rest of us get shitfaced. In its own way, that can be just as fun.

And here, ladies and gentlemen, is where my story ends. We left the bar, taxied to the airport (where they actually checked my ID this time), and hopped on a plane where I promptly fell asleep. Not nearly long enough, of course, and I nearly fell asleep again on the airport floor at baggage claim. 5 consecutive nights of no more than 3 hours of sleep each can take a lot out of a man, and I was beginning to feel those aches you feel when you’re coming down with the flu. Luckily, 20 hours of sleep will clear that right up.