The After Party

Not being a big drinker it was just a case of bad timing that had meant I missed my sisters early evening barbecue earlier today, so with not much else to do on the boat but dance and drink I was not surprised when I was a bit pished by the end of the party.

 

I would have said that I was only half cut, however I distinctly remember staring at the gents door for a good few minutes trying to work out if vacant meant it was empty or not, which is a new first for me, so I guess that I was more gone than I felt.

 

Paula had arranged a couple of after party gatherings at a few clubs in the west end and as my last train home leaves at 12.04 and the boat was due to dock back at 12.15 I was always planning on tagging along with her.

 

I had also always planned on crashing at the Westminster University Hall of residence at a mere £11 per night right around the corner from the party, but they had not got back to me following my contact email so this had fallen through.

 

What I wasn't expecting was to try and recreate the old "how many students can you get in a mini" record breaking event. Ok, it wasn't a mini and it wasn't over the legal driving limit, but in a car with no rear doors and with Paula ending up half lying / half sitting on both me and her cousin it certainly felt like it.

 

Lady luck was still strangely amiss as despite having guest lists at a few clubs we could not actually find one that would let us in, due to them already being overcrowded. This was a double blow as this was where and when Paula had planned to meet up with the remaining guests who could not get onto the boat.

 

Our large procession of white clad figures slowly began to dwindle with each failed entry to a club after the first as guests slowly but surely lost the will to go clubbing after pounding the pavement for much longer and retired home.

 

After about club number four I told Paula that I would just go crash over at a hotel for the night, waved goodbye to one and all that was left and headed off into the night on my own.

 

However my own luck was even less than when I was part of the group. In my cleverness I had left most of my credit cards at home so that my wallet was nice and light in my pocket. This was a stroke of insanity as it turned out my one remaining card had reached its limit and the cash machines would not give out any more.

 

My next plan was to find a Soho strip bar as they remain open until about 5am, but I was too drunk to find my way there, a cruel fate as during my sober days I have many a time passed through there without even trying regardless of which was I had headed off from work.

 

At Buckingham Palace I paused and sat for a good long while, glad to let my feet get some rest and praising myself for my earlier cleverness of slipping my padded insoles into my trainers.

 

I then decided to try out my credit card one last time, especially as it was now very much Sunday morning so perhaps the limits had been reset for the day, and voila, success. However this success was cut short as the next four hotels around Victoria I tried were all full up.

 

At one of them a rather bland woman waited to get inside the main doors, and the younger woman just let her right in without any questions or even raising an eyebrow. It is my deduction that some gent staying in the hotel must have decided to get himself an escort, as not many women travel alone at 4am with no luggage and are sober as a judge. Or maybe I'm jumping to conclusions.

 

At the final hotel, I gave up on waling any further and just settled down to sit on the steps outside and here it is that I noticed shortly after a complete lacking of the milk of human kindness.

 

In the hour that I waited on the steps I noticed three guests depart with suitcases, bound for early morning flights no doubt. However when the hotel staff spotted me sitting on their step they gathered together and angrily demanded that I leave. I must say that at this point in the cool night just before the dawn, following hours or walking and no further consumption of any alcohol whatsoever, I was feeling decidedly sober.

 

In reply to their gruff demands I asked why they said the room was full. Because we have no free rooms. But what about that last couple that just left, surely I could have their room . No, it is not ready. But I don't need it to be ready, I just need a place to rest for a couple of hours until the first train home. No, I'm sorry, but hotel policy insists that after a guest leaves the room must be completely cleaned before allowing any new guests to enter. But I've already tried lots of other hotels in the area and they are all booked up . That's not our fault and rules are rules.

 

What a complete load of hogwash. They would rather leave me stranded in London and lose out on the cash than give a guy a decent break.

 

And like a bad nightmare it just kept getting worse.

Victoria train station did not open until after 5am.

Engineering works meant no trains were leaving from Victoria, instead they are all leaving from Blackheath.

The tubes don't start running on a Sunday until 7am.

The first train to leave for Kent was at 7.55am.

It was a slow stopping service to Swanley that then becomes a slow bus service to Gillingham.

The bus had no curtains and by now the early morning sun was beating down remorseless.

They had to wait at each station to let passengers who would normally be catching trains at that time board the bus.

The bus driver would not let anybody off at a normal bus stop that it passed, regardless of if it was closer to home that the actual train station for the passengers.

 

I arrived back home at about 10.30 on Sunday morning and I never want another night like that as long as I live.