This was a good day.
Grace took me to meet some of her pals whilst Natalie was working. We all shared a common bond over simultaneous hangovers, and went to get brunch. After waiting for a while at some place to get a table, we came to the horrible realisation that no alcohol was being served.
Naturally, we opted to go to a different establishment for mamosas and sangria.
…and then onto another one for tequila.
The bar-staff weren’t too sure about us for some reason, and eventually told us that they couldn’t bring any more alcohol to the table.
Seriously.
I’ve never been refused service before. Ever.
I wanted to talk to the manager, since it was them that had apparently cut us off, but the Americans didn’t approve of this plan. I went on some rant about how we weren’t being loud or abusive, and that I’d flown across the world to get drunk with my friends… and that never mind all that… I was Scottish damnit.
…he brought me another shot.
