How the fuck did I get home last night?

So the night started around 7, when I was meeting up with a friend called Vladko at the National Palace of Culture. I didn’t see him, so I figured I’d watch some 2-on-2 beachvolleyball. It was very entertaining for about 1 minute.

Anyway, at some point Vladko comes and we decide to find an Irish pub called Murphy’s, because a group of Dutch people were meeting there to watch the game of Holland against Bulgaria. So we get there and basically everyone is British, plus drunk out of their minds. Finally a proper pub.

So I look for people in orange and start talking to them. The rest of the time in the pub was pretty uneventful, but it is worth mentioning I met the Dutch ambassador (Johan) and I sat at his table as we watched the game.

Then Vladko and I decided to find a club. So we go to a club called “Lipstick” or Chervilo in Bulgarian. It was a pretty good place, two rooms with electronic music. Here my memory gets a bit foggy. I get one vodka, then a little bit later I notice I have no more money, so Vladko and I go outside for a minute to get money. We come back, order two big Vodka’s. Now when you say big in Bulgaria, you get big. They poured vodka into a glass you would normally drink a coke from, and it was 3/4 full, for just 4.50 in euros. I love this place.

As you can imagine, this is where my mind goes very foggy. I remember myself talking to people and Vladko telling me he was going home. I stayed for about another half an hour, I think. I just checked my telephone, which is always a good drunk-o-meter and noticed 3 new entries in my contact list… One is a phone number without a name, the other is just “E” without a number and then there is Planen and a telephone number, so I guess this is the guy I last remember talking to. No clue why I have his number though. I guess I was having fun.

Anyway, around this time (but don’t ask me the clock time) I went home. Then there is a huge gap…. And then there is me waking up at 2 o’ clock in the afternoon with all (and I mean EVERYTHING) of my clothes still on. Apparently I hadn’t even bothered to take off my jacket. I realized that there was a cloak room at the club, so I like the fact I remembered to take my shit from there before I left.

But other than that…. woah. Let’s not do this often. I like memories.


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