Scotland: Night 1

(Quick note: I took a trip to Scotland in April, 2014. After spending an amazingly long time not writing about it, and forgetting which friends I'd told which stories to, I decided to post my experiences over the next few days. I am not back-dating these entries, but know that they occurred last year and that I am not writing intentionally with the benefit of eight months of hindsight.)

(Previously: I planned, I flew to Scotland, I pooped, I napped.)

I woke up after a three hour nap and felt pretty good. I had managed to evade Interpol, the weather was gorgeous, and I'd only needed to ask four people to repeat themselves so far. Things were going well.

I showered and headed out for food. Specifically, for haggis.


Haggis is, according to Wikipedia, "a savoury pudding containing sheep's pluck (heart, liver and lungs); minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally encased in the animal's stomach and simmered for approximately three hours".

Even understanding that a lot of modern haggis uses sausage casings, rather than sheep stomach, it's still not very appetizing on paper. If you know that "suet" is fat, it gets even a little less appetizing.

But I was in Scotland and I needed to try it.

I settled into a restaurant and ordered haggis, tatties and neeps. "Tatties" are mashed potatoes and "neeps" are mashed turnips. I added a hard cider and some whiskey gravy and... it was good. I liked it a lot.

The table next to me was occupied by a pair of young women who had North American accents and at some point (as I was finishing off my hard cider, probably) I talked to them a bit. They had their noses buried in their smart phones, but I learned that they were Canadian and they told me about a club they'd been to on Tuesday, and that it had been really busy. I tucked that away and it would come into play about five nights later.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I finished my food. I started chewing gum (one of six packs that I brought on my trip) and walked to the Three Sisters Pub, which my cab driver had recommended.

It was a short walk, and I was greeted by one of the most glorious phrases in all the English language: "Karaoke tonight". OK, it actually "Karaoke Thursdays", but given it was Thursday, it was effectively "Karaoke tonight". And I was pleased.

I opened a tab (which, as it would later turn out, was a bigger deal than it seemed). I drank. I sang a few songs. And I watched and met some people.

The first batch of people I noticed was a group of three guys. They looked like the kind of guys I would imagine if someone were to start a story with the phrase, "Three Scottish guys walk into a bar, looking for a fight..."

As someone who is quite cognizant both of his inability to fight and his penchant for doing things that piss some guys off (including, but not limited to, dressing differently and using "penchant" correctly in a sentence), I intuitively knew to stay out of the way of these fellows.

I hugged the wall. I didn't get into their line of sight (other than, I suppose, when I was singing).

But I did observe them.

After ordering beer, they staggered over to a spot on the fringe of the crowd and they had their heads on a collective swivel--looking for trouble.

Eventually, they found targets. Some guys were playing billiards with some women friends, and our ne'er-do-wells were hovering just out of range of the pool cue reach and kept edging closer and closer. There was one hothead in the pool-playing group that was on the verge of doing something about the space invasion but common sense blessedly prevailed and pool play ceased. The bullies retreated to another part of the bar and I saw them no more.

As sort of thrilling it was to see some of the native fauna in its natural pub habitat, I was more interested in talking to women (that tends to be true in almost every circumstance... unless I need my car fixed or I want help with arithmetic).

(Note: I don't own a car. And I never need help with arithmetic.)

There was a group of women who were there and I got to talk to them a bit.

We drank. I lightly complimented. We discussed the upcoming Scottish independence vote. I was reminded that women could legally be in bars at the age of 18. (Actually, I think that 16 year-olds can be drinking some alcohol if they're eating food... although I didn't experience that first-hand. Or at least I hope not.)

I walked them back to their hotel. I had a rather subdued mini-makeout with one of the cute ones on the sidewalk outside. I wandered back to my hotel for sleep. Blessed sleep.I walked them back to their hotel. I had a rather subdued mini-makeout with one of the cute ones on the sidewalk outside. I wandered back to my hotel for sleep. Blessed sleep.