Sunday, 20 May 2012

Pubs - Pubs & Other Drugs!!

So in a bid to escape from the terribleness that was a hostel with a no wine policy we head to a relative of my boyfriends that can remain nameless, alright for the purpose of this post I will call him Steve. So Steve’s house was the very opposite of a Hostel with a no wine policy in fact when around Steve, it very much compulsory that you drink wine; for Steve you see is an alcoholic.

So how did we meet Steve? We rang him and said that we would be coming to Sydney he very kindly agreed to put us up for a few days as we were skint. We agreed that we would meet in the Rocks by the police station.
We stand around trying to scope out potential Steve’s and we definitely know him when we see him – oh boy do we!! Strutting towards us looking like Adam in 20 years’ time is Steve with a thick Irish accent and a friendly hello. He asks us if we want to take a tour of Sydney and we can leave our backpacks in the restaurant that he works at. Excellent,sure why not? So we do,and this was no ordinary tour of Sydney – no it wasn’t.

First port of call is the bar of his restaurant were we have a drink and meet his colleges  lovely, second port of call was not The Opera House; Steve apparently has never been there, not the Harbour Bridge; that is apparently for wan***s to take a walk up, not even the lovely Darling Harbour. Second port of call was …..  The Irish bar two doors down – ah of course. So we drink in there to.

I don’t think that I need to tell you were stop number three was on our tour of Sydney, that’s right bar three, though to be fair this one did have a view of The Opera House. By this point I had drunk sooo much I could not even talk properly; it was around 1pm in the afternoon. Steve had drunk way more than us,he was fine and me and Adam on the other hand were a wreck. So our last stop on the tour of Sydney that had taken us about 100 meters down the road was, you guessed it,  bar number 4 The Ship Inn , God knows how I remember that in the state I was in. then after 4 hours of solid drinking ,and I have to admit the best and most informative tour of Sydney that I could have asked for Steve announces that he is going to work – HOW – and that we are to meet him at ten.

The rest of the day consisted of me and Adam drunk out of our minds, looking like a pair of unimaginable hobos, aimlessly wandering the streets of Sydney until 10pm. Then we carry our backpacks back to Steve’s house in Surrey Hills. This is the point when I realise that maybe, staying at Steve’s is not the best idea. Not sure why earlier events didn’t make the penny
drop, but this is the point when it did.

Steve’s house is nice, we are staying on the sofa but meh what do you expect. There are no pillows or a blanket which is inconvenient, but not unmanageable,  what is unmanageable however is, Mitch. Mitch is Steve’s housemate and is an utter Knob. So we arrive and Mitch looks like a psyco – his celeb lookalike is the fat one from The Hangover. He tells us that we better make sure that we lock the gate because people are after him and no one (and he means no one) can know what he gets up to –OOOKKKAAAYY – this is weird!!! Steve then goes out and leaves us with Mitch – ALONE with MITCH!!!

So here is how that night went; we had awkward conversation for a while where Mitch told us about his fantasy land. He is the hardest man in OZ, he earns $10,000 per week, he killed a man…. And the list goes on. He then proceeds to produce a bag of coke, a huge one like in the movies. I take my cue and pretend that I’m asleep until this awful ordeal is over. Mitch is a drug dealer, I have found myself in a drug dealers house – AWKWARD.

He then enters a into a convo about me thinking that I’m asleep apparently Mitch thinks that  “I’m a sexy little thing” usually flattering; in this situation just down right scary. This is the worst night of my life – EVER. I lay and pretend to be asleep for hour’s until he finally goes to bed at 5am, Steve still not home. When Mitch leaves I proceed to my usual state of uncontrollable crying and ask can we just leave; no we can’t because we will be on the street. I eventually fall asleep - then at 7am in rolls Steve from a heavy day and night on the town and sits on my face 'lovely'.
After this hellish night I cry – then cry a little more then tell Steve that we are meeting some friends at a hostel and get the F**K outta there.

Bless Steve I just want to say he is a lovely man whose heart is in the right place – it’s just that his lifestyle doesn’t really accommodate for house guests!

1 comment:

  1. Your blog is unintentionally hilarious.