As I come to consciousness Saturday morning, I can hear two distinct types of shouting. I could hear children playing Football in the courtyard right outside of my window. I couldn’t possibly be angry if they woke me up with shouts of fun, it was so cute. The second type of shouting was less immediate and loud, it was more like a wind that was sweeping through the area. It was the sound of screams and songs of joy coming from St.Mary’s Stadium. I could tell Southampton was winning, but when I checked Sky News it turned out to be more than just an ordinary victory. The Saints had shut down Aston Villa 6 to 1 and just claimed the new record for fastest Hat Trick in Premier League history.
My friend had to work this Saturday, so I had Southampton to myself. One of the things I have to mention early on here is just how interesting every little detail of the city was to me, details that are probably mundane to the city’s citizens. I stopped to look at this punk-rock venue that was located underneath a brick bridge–it looked like something out of a fantasy game like Skyrim. A tavern/musical venue built under–no, inside the bridge. I found Oxford Street incredibly welcoming and pleasant. A cobblestone sidewalk, historical buildings, bars and restaurants everywhere, and it was so close to my temporary home. I only ate in one Oxford Street establishment, but the street is a fond memory, a place I saw flooded with the peppermint-striped kits of Southampton Saints fans drinking to an amazing victory.
A Drunk City.
Perhaps because of that amazing victory, I got to see Southampton particularly drunk that Saturday night. The drunkest I got was probably at lunch, drinking Rosé and eating pizza–and it seemed like the average citizen out on the sidewalk was about twice as drunk as that. I’ll go ahead and say there were two standout characters, though everyone was impressive in their own ways. So the first amazing person we run into is super drunk, and super gay. I think he maybe came from the gay bar on Oxford Street, but who can say? All I know for sure is that he liked to sing and dance, and accuse people of hating him.
“You hate me! Oh I’m sorry. You think I’m weird. I’m just lost.”
Well anyway, this guy danced his way to a bar called Isis and in hilarious but classy fashion, the bouncer gave him a cigarette and a light, but would not let the drunk man in. What kind of conversation they had, I don’t know, but it was great fun to watch.
In the middle of this drunken tale, my friend and I hit up a place called The Orange Rooms, which is filled with good throwback music, sexually aggressive couples doing lots of spanking, an AT-AT in a fishtank, televisions playing He-Man, and urinals with video games in them that you play with your pee.
On the walk home, wouldn’t you know it, we run into more drunk characters. This time it’s a man called Parkour Jacob. See, at first we don’t see Jacob. We see his friends staring at three stories of scaffolding shouting “Get down from there! Jacob! Stop!” Well, Jacob listened to reason and got down from the scaffolding, only to tell his friends that “I know a shortcut home.”
Those were Jacob’s words.
“I know a shortcut.”
And then Jacob went over a nine-foot stone walk, and walked along it until I couldn’t see him anymore.
“Somebody’s played a little too much Assassin’s Creed” was the best quip I could come up with.