Piss-ups

Another Friday morning, another inglorious hangover. Made worse by the fact that I wasn't the one being carried home this time. This morning, I did something I very rarely do when hungover - I went running. And, to my great surprise, it worked a treat and now, showered and refreshed with over a litre of water drank in the space of two hours, I feel fantastic. So I am blogging. Oh, the excitemenet.

Last night, Saz and I took advantage of the fact that Charley was heading to see Enter Shikari (don't get me started) and decided to go out, after a long, tortuous week, and get pissed. We love going out with her, but she tends to crash around 2 while we prefer to pull all-nighters and crawl home around 6. Anyway, we headed to the "Thirsty Thursday Party", held in a glorified basement on a weekly basis and attended by anybody and everybody who has foreign blood in them (and some random Germans, too). It's become fairly obvious to me by now that these Erasmus parties, thrown by MESA ("Woooooo!! We're gonna have so much FUN!! Now, write your number down here for when you need to be carried home later"), are nothing more than piss-ups. Which suits me down to the ground. Nobody bothers getting dressed up, everybody is wasted and the music is usually decent.

Last Friday, we dragged our asses all the way to Olywood (or Olympia, to give it its' not so cool name) to go to a bigger party than usual, held in a bigger venue than usual. Of course, everybody got trashed. We started off with free welcome shots that were basically vodka and sherbet. Charley and I danced on a platform while men tried to look up our skirts. I had my first ever shot of tequila with the Swede. Saz broke the American's glasses (then we discovered later that they weren't broken...or something). Charley met yet ANOTHER American who fancied the pants off her. Saz ended up grinding with the Jock (who we all agreed is decent looking, but a spa). And I ended up outside, freezing my ass off again, discussing anything and everything with the American. I should really stop disappearing at these things. People are beginning to ask questions. I also met an Irish lad from Drogheda who I later helped distinguish between the ladies' and men's toilets through a drunken haze. He was very grateful. That night was epic. Last night was...different.

To start with, Saz hadn't eaten for hours prior to our pre-drinks. So she was much further along than me. I tried to catch up, but in the end I was glad I didn't. Very few of our friends were there, so we ended up making new ones. Josh, another American and one of Charley's many admirers, was particularly memorable. He managed to dance when he could barely stand. As for my American; Saz dragged him along for a bit, taunted him and tried to steal his hat. I told him I liked his shirt and then didn't see him again for the rest of the night. Bit weird, that one. But, then again, it's not surprising seeing as I tend to attract the freaks.

Towards the end of the night, when everybody started disappearing off home, I found Saz in the arms of this Brazilian lad who, it's common knowledge, has a thing for her. She doesn't feel the same way, she finds him irritating and repulsive. However, she was clearly off her head and he was forcing another beer down her neck. So, through my drunken haze, I told her that I'd wait until she was done and then we'd go. Unfortunately, she took this badly and ran off. And then collapsed at the edge of the dancefloor. I spent the next half hour stroking her hair while she lay in my lap, and telling her it'd be okay, all the time watching the same Brazilian dancing away in front of me like he hadn't a care in the world. Thus, when he approached me even later on, I told him where to go. And he started yelling and swearing at me that he was the one who really cared, not me. That's one of my least favourite things about men, or macho men in particular, they refuse to admit when they are wrong. Once I got rid of him, I took her to be sick.

While waiting outside, freaking out of course because we'd missed the last U-Bahn and the first one wasn't for two hours, I was approached by two Israeli lads and a girl from somewhere in eastern Europe. They told me they would help. I was cautious, of course, not knowing them, but there was nobody around and I had no other choice but to trust them. They ended up being very sweet and helpful. One of them paid for a taxi home, and the other helped me carry her down the street to the taxi. And then, as if we weren't lucky enough, we got the nicest taxi driver in the history of the world. He told Saz to shout if she needed to be sick and he'd pull over, and once she'd nodded off, he stuck some '80s on the radio for me and we had a good aul' chat. I realised my German isn't so bad after all.

After I'd settled Saz into bed, made sure she was lying on her side, etc, I headed home and lay awake in bed listening to music for what seemed like hours, thinking everything over. I mainly listened to the Metallica concert from last summer (thanks, Noodles) and got goosebumps remembering how amazing it was. I love Munich, and it feels like home now, but I miss Dublin terribly at times. The smell of it, even. I hate the smell of the brewery, but now that I can't smell it anymore, I miss it!

It's funny, because last night was nothing more than a regular Erasmus piss-up, but I learned a lot from it, about friendship, about the kindness of strangers, the callousness of certain men... I probably sound really pretentious right now, but I'm not trying to be. Every time I write in here about Munich, I feel like I've learned something new about myself, people and life in general. I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything less. I was told this would be a life-changing experience, and it is. At least, so far.

I can't believe I've been here two months tomorrow...shit...

Anyway, enough self-searching and philosophical rambling for today.

I cannot wait to rock out tomorrow night. Finally. If I have to sit through another evening of indie, I am going to DIE.


Song of the day: Metallica - Nothing Else Matters.