My adult life -Chapter 4


As first year began to wind down I couldn’t have been happier. New friends, new women, basically new life. The excessive drinking was becoming more fun each time with my youthful enthusiasm easily trumping prospective hangovers. I remember visiting home one weekend and a friend asking if the reputation of Borderers being big drinkers was justified.It wasn’t. It doesn’t matter if you are a geek, a gym freak, a virgin or a playboy.  If you binge drink between 4 and 7 days a week then that’s big drinking. It’s nothing to be proud of (ok I’m a little proud) but most sociable people at Uni would drink more in one week than anyone working a full time job would in one month. Going out every Saturday night is childs-play in comparison.

Sadly, for my 5 years at Uni I couldn’t shake that thought process. I constantly wanted to better each story, out do each adventure, make each night more crazy and another one for the record books. At that age, it meant drinking and having sex more than other people. Many of my Uni friends also held this notion, as you will see later on. First year though was still about finding my feet. The stories were more Walt Disney than Ronny Wood. However, I was becoming more confident in pushing the boundaries of ridiculousness.

After a night clubbing for a friends birthday just as summer was approaching, a bunch of us hopped a wall or two and started exploring Aberdeen Football Stadium. It goes without saying that the primary reason you do when break into a football stadium is… to piss on the goal line.

Aberdeen fan “Wow great save”

Me “Ha, he’s rolling in my piss”

As I say, more Walt Disney than Ronny Wood…

I also found a football and started kick it around the pitch and scored the obligatory goal. I’m pretty sure I was Aberdeen’s joint top goal scorer that season. While all this was going on, one of the other lads decided to climb one of the floodlights…one handed…while filming it on his phone. If that wasn’t bad enough, when he got to the top and ran out of ladder,  he started to climb the actual lights…one handed…while filming it on his phone. As stupid as it was, it did make for a great video. There was a family of nesting birds at the top who got the fright of their lives, they weren’t the only ones.

I would go back to Pittodrie several teams over the years. A couple of times to watch sport, most of the time not. The goal line was looking pretty lush by the time I left.

First year was coming to an end though. Exams were over and went much like the winter exams, just with slightly less people acing them while on cocaine. The drinking continued until slowly people started to drift home for the holidays. I was looking forward to going home and resting my liver. One other thing that people also don’t think about is that amount of clothes you need for that level of partying. If you go out 4 times a week, you have to use the same shirts, jeans etc all the time. Not easy when they are covered in spilled drinks, vomit or in some cases, stale jizz. There was many a fashion fopah. Add that to the vomit coloured hair, it was maybe good to go home and reflect on things for a few months.

It was hard leaving halls. Everyone was around each other 24/7, you would just walk out your door and something would be going on. I would’t miss being on a ground floor with a broken window however. I spent more time clearing away tree branches and leaves from my room than I did packing my bags. Moving into a real flat would also mean no more launderette’s or food halls and a more respectable place to partake in liaisons of the sexual nature.  Therefore in my head, your own place meant big pimpin. In reality, I moved into an unfurnished flat then used the bottom half of my childhood bunk bed rather than splash out on a new one.

That bed was going to see some things. Second year was about to turn it up a notch.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Travel.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s