La Spanish Partay.
So yesterday night I decided to alleviate myself from hermit-dom and tortured thoughts, and descend upon the weekly Spanish Party at O'Neill's pub in town.
Mon and I prettied up, and were about to head out the door, when we passed one of the dudes' rooms next to the building car park. They were having a pre-party drink and smoke, and we asked them if they were headed to the Spanish party. They invited us in for drinks, and so we went. There was S, a French Indian dude who's really tall and big; A, a skinny witty Russian guy living in Germany; E, a pudgy teddy-bear looking dude from Ecuador; F, who honestly looks like a blonde version of Mr. Big a la SATC; and I, a quiet bookish type from I-forgot-where.
After twenty minutes of idling around chatting, we finally left for the party. E and A went with us; the rest were staying in. Along the walk to O'Neill's, I learnt how to curse in Russian and Spanish, but I don't think I can remember it now if you ask me to say it. Hehe.
O'Neill's has two levels - the first floor is the usual English pub-type atmosphere - sort of rustically decorated, with low ceilings and woody furniture. The second floor is where the party was. It sort of reminded me a little of Gotham Penthouse back home, because it was a small space with split levels. The music generally was Spanish pop, and once in a while we'd get lucky and get some R&B songs. From what I could tell, the crowd was very collegiate, and there was hardly anyone older than 25 (but more on that later).
Mon got her Baileys on the rocks, and well I didn't drink anything to play safe. Heh heh. E tried to teach me how to move the Spanish way, but he only got as far as teaching me how to twirl. We slowly split from him and graduated to the French and Italian exchange students, who stay in Thornbank Gardens too.
J, a very tall French guy with a very sharp tongue who Mon says reminds her of Mike Teevee (Roald Dahl, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory), spent a good portion of the time flirting with Mon, and trying to untie the ribbon behind my corset-ish top. He managed to unravel the ribbon, causing loose string to sprout endlessly - BAH! I'll have to do something about that.
During the course of the night, Mon and I got accosted by two sets of equally slimey looking Spanish men. They were all :
1) not within the under-25 age group
2) short
3) bespectacled and/or unshaven
4) wearing short-sleeved shirts in attempt to look young
5) shifty-eyed
One of them really freaked me out by the way he was staring. Jeez. These old men trying to score some "exotic Asian flesh". They tried to charm us out of our boots/sneakers by guessing our nationality, and eliciting "Ni hao" and "Sayonara" interchangeably. UGH. Haha. It was amusing, but rather freaky too.
(And Joycey - no I'm not sian of it yet. Haha)
J wanted to go home around 1.30am, and us girls decided it was time to quit the party too. There is only so much shuffling to music you don't understand one can do. And so the whole troop of guys - French, Italian, one tipsy German - trudged home in the cold. The walk home was... interesting. :) I told Mon when we were walking along Thornbank Place, we wouldn't forget tonight. This - walking home with 7 singing and shouting Europeans we barely knew - was something we won't forget. Heh.
It was a good night.
Mon and I prettied up, and were about to head out the door, when we passed one of the dudes' rooms next to the building car park. They were having a pre-party drink and smoke, and we asked them if they were headed to the Spanish party. They invited us in for drinks, and so we went. There was S, a French Indian dude who's really tall and big; A, a skinny witty Russian guy living in Germany; E, a pudgy teddy-bear looking dude from Ecuador; F, who honestly looks like a blonde version of Mr. Big a la SATC; and I, a quiet bookish type from I-forgot-where.
After twenty minutes of idling around chatting, we finally left for the party. E and A went with us; the rest were staying in. Along the walk to O'Neill's, I learnt how to curse in Russian and Spanish, but I don't think I can remember it now if you ask me to say it. Hehe.
O'Neill's has two levels - the first floor is the usual English pub-type atmosphere - sort of rustically decorated, with low ceilings and woody furniture. The second floor is where the party was. It sort of reminded me a little of Gotham Penthouse back home, because it was a small space with split levels. The music generally was Spanish pop, and once in a while we'd get lucky and get some R&B songs. From what I could tell, the crowd was very collegiate, and there was hardly anyone older than 25 (but more on that later).
Mon got her Baileys on the rocks, and well I didn't drink anything to play safe. Heh heh. E tried to teach me how to move the Spanish way, but he only got as far as teaching me how to twirl. We slowly split from him and graduated to the French and Italian exchange students, who stay in Thornbank Gardens too.
J, a very tall French guy with a very sharp tongue who Mon says reminds her of Mike Teevee (Roald Dahl, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory), spent a good portion of the time flirting with Mon, and trying to untie the ribbon behind my corset-ish top. He managed to unravel the ribbon, causing loose string to sprout endlessly - BAH! I'll have to do something about that.
During the course of the night, Mon and I got accosted by two sets of equally slimey looking Spanish men. They were all :
1) not within the under-25 age group
2) short
3) bespectacled and/or unshaven
4) wearing short-sleeved shirts in attempt to look young
5) shifty-eyed
One of them really freaked me out by the way he was staring. Jeez. These old men trying to score some "exotic Asian flesh". They tried to charm us out of our boots/sneakers by guessing our nationality, and eliciting "Ni hao" and "Sayonara" interchangeably. UGH. Haha. It was amusing, but rather freaky too.
(And Joycey - no I'm not sian of it yet. Haha)
J wanted to go home around 1.30am, and us girls decided it was time to quit the party too. There is only so much shuffling to music you don't understand one can do. And so the whole troop of guys - French, Italian, one tipsy German - trudged home in the cold. The walk home was... interesting. :) I told Mon when we were walking along Thornbank Place, we wouldn't forget tonight. This - walking home with 7 singing and shouting Europeans we barely knew - was something we won't forget. Heh.
It was a good night.
posted by the zee at 10:57 PM
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