Spice up your life

Here's to another immense weekend in England. I'm even sporting a few unexplainable bruises (one baseball-sized on my leg), so you know it was good.

I barely slept at all Thursday night. Perhaps it was anticipation or maybe the fact that I was up until 3 am looking at flights and hostels to this semester's travel plans. In any case, 11 am came way too quickly. I got ready, went downstairs to print boarding passes and ticket confirmations, and arrived at the RER at 11:55, where I caught a direct train to CDG. Perfection. I was early, I had already checked in -- EasyJet is the new Southwest. Anyway, the flight was a short 1 hour, or actually 15 minutes if you count the time difference. Was pillaged by fees for changing 100 euros into pounds (um yeah guys, don't let your debit cards get stolen -- cash in pointless). Took the EasyBus to the Marble Arch, then the tube to meet Matt and Notting Hill Gate. Basically I'm pro London skills now. We met with his friend Maddie who lives in London, ate some dinner, went to a pub. But we didn't stay long because we had to get back on the tube and head over the Spice Girls concert. Eeeee. It was everything you would expect and even a little more. And aside from a few moms and their little kids, everyone there wasn't any younger than 18 I would say. Which certainly makes me feel old, but ya know.
Afterward, we met up with Maddie again, plus Jimmy and his sister to do a little bar hopping. After walking in the rain and incredible wind, we made it to The Rocket, definitely one of the best bars I've ever been to. I drank to bottles of pear cider (haha) and we danced and yelled and all that good stuff. Plus this gorgeous Australian boy bummed some cigarettes off of Kat, so I was her drunken wingwoman later on when she wanted to give him her phone number. The bar closed at 2 (London is lame that way) so Matt and I headed back to Oxford. Apparently I was pretty drunk because I fell on some cobblestones at Exeter. I have a lovely bruise on my forearm to prove it. Most people were sleeping after finishing up their tests that day so it was a quiet night. But Matt stayed with Joe so I got a beddy bye all to myself.
Next morning we woke up perfectly late and were planning to go to hall (more on this later) for breakfast, but Matt's friends suggested we go for a "pub lunch," whatever the fuck that is. We were unsuccessful in any case. So instead we got some sandwiches and a few of us ate ours on a bench in some grassy area while Matt did impressions of the rector. Of course by this time it was about 4 pm (whoops!), so I read some Vanity Fair and napped while Matt did some stuff on the computer.
We ended up going to hall for dinner that night, and the teriyaki chicken and sheisty risotto was just so reminiscent of the days back in the DC. Dorm life really was awesome. Anyway, it was very Gilmore Girls, this dining hall. Except there were paintings of funny men in robes all over the walls.
So now to the real point of my sojourn to Oxford -- the bop. Which is like a party I guess? Anyway, it was Alice in Wonderland themed, so Matt and I went as the White Rabbit and the Cheshire Cat. We got some alcohol at Sainsbury's and I had my first real pre-gaming sesh in a while. Five shots of vodka (chased with Dr. Pepper, yayyyy!) in quick succession and I was good to go. Went to the bop, which was in the college bar, and rocked out like maniacs. Lovely little Joseph bought Matt and I some drinks (vodka for me, whiskey for Matt), but there was just no way I could drink more. Matt had the bartender put some Sprite in it for me, but even then I couldn't drink it. Nevermind the fact that I poured a bunch of it down my shirt exactly three times before I handed it off to someone. Anyway, there was lots of loud music and dancing some more, and of course I had to threaten another homophobe with bodily harm. It just wouldn't be a trip to England without it, I suppose. After the bop was over I did some mortifying drunk-Skyping, whoops. At some point during the night this guy threw my cat ears out the window and then locked me out of the room when I went down to get them. And then threw some bran flakes in my eyes when he finally opened the door. I'm still not clear on why all of that happened.
Anyway, suddenly everyone was gone except Matt, Joe, and Matt's roommate Seb. Naturally Matt and Joe were all over each other, so Seb played Jack's Mannequin and I danced around the room, simultaneously sipping water and throwing a rubber ball in the air. Man, who knows. But I definitely felt like a freshman again and it was lovely. Life was much less complicated in the dorms. No psycho roommates (only psycho neighbors), taking shots, and dancing our asses off.
Unfortunately, unlike in the dorms, there was no Sunday breakfast of custom egg white omelettes and Belgian waffles. Instead, I woke up at 10 and threw myself in the shower to fight off that terrible hangover feeling, like static in my veins. Matt took me to the bus stop and saw me off on the National Express, which took me to Luton Airport. I was excited to snooze on the comfy bus, but apparently I was really hungover because I was just nauseated the whole time. I've never scheduled anything big the day after heavy drinking, and now I know why. So I drank some water and ate some Tums, but then of course I had to pee like a mother. But we finally got there, I changed my pounds back into euros, and then sat in the lounge for funking ever because I was early. Slept on the plane, took the RER straight home, and here I am.
Dreading going to work. But only because it's been such a long time since I was there. But I've got my lesson planned out, and it should be fine. Of course what I'm really dreading -- and what put a dark cloud of my weekend -- is my stupid Franco-American relations paper.