On Friday night I met up with a few ex-work buddies for a drinkie at PJ O’Brien’s. We had a merry old chat about the good ol’ days when we worked together. After a couple of hours some went on to a show, and the three of us remaining decided to move to another Irish pub, Pugg Mahone’s, renowned for having a livelier atmosphere. We were going to meet my friend Naomi and a couple of her friends there too, but despite a mobile call or two to try and co-ordinate things, it turns out they went to PJ O’Brien’s some time after we’d gone.
But no matter, the second pub certainly did have a livelier atmosphere. Instead of a hi fi system playing "My Sharona" every hour, it had a covers band that managed to get the crowd singing along to every song, which can be quite an achievement depending on how much alcohol has been consumed. They didn’t even have to play "My Sharona".
In the case of my mate John, it was quite a substantial amount. After a little while, he was looking quite, quite happy. Eventually it was apparent that he’d been overdoing it somewhat, to the point where I think it would be fair to describe him as rat-arsed. One moment he was introducing me to a girl I ended up having a chat and a dance with, the next moment we saw him slumped over another girl, who was in a similar state of consciousness! And the pair of them (they seemed inseparable) were being carried out by security. Oh dear. John got home okay, but a little the worse for wear.
Anyway, had a great time, though by the (comparatively early) end of the night, I was feeling pretty out of it too.
- What’s this, Daniel dancing with a strange girl in a pub? Yeah well, I’m single now, remember…
