Thirsty Thursday.

If you're friends with me on facebook, then you already know that Laura, Myself, and a few other people attended the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows red carpet WORLD PREMIERE this past Thursday. Now, many people have asked, "How did you get tickets??? Did you see the movie???" Well, no we didn't have tickets, and no we didn't get to see the movie. But it was still AWESOME.

Basically, the premiere took place in Leicester Square, which is big place for nightlife, restaurants, movies, etc. I went there straight after class and met up with our friend Devon, and explored the area a bit. Because I didn't get there until about 4:15pm, there was no hope of getting a good spot. So we were shoved up against fences, peeking inbetween media vans trying to get the smallest glimpse of what was going on. And we did! Not only did we get to see the trailer for the movie on a jumbotron about 16 bagillion times, but we briefly (and I mean VERY briefly) got to see Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, the Weasly twins, Ginny Weasly, Cho Chang, Luna Lovegood, Professor Flitwick... And Zach Effron? Well, Devon swears she saw Zach Effron. I'm not so sure. But the entire time the girls were screaming at the stars, whilst I laughed at them and snapped some very blurry photos, which are up on facebook.

Now this next story may contain some questionable material, depending on what you define as questionable. But its pretty entertaining nonetheless.

After the premiere, we went back to the dorm, and I was bored. Real bored. And real broke. And everyone is off doing something else. Now up until now, we've all gone out in groups, and the only pubs/clubs that I had been to with people were straight ones. I've been here for almost 8 weeks and the only gay bar I've been to was the one we went to in Dublin for Halloween, which was awesome, but I had yet to check out the gay scene in London! And I wanted to go to a gay pub, dammit! So, I decided to go to the one and only gay pub in Chelsea (the neighborhood where I live).

Here is my inner monologue at this point: "I really wanna go, but I'm broke. I really shouldn't go. But I'm soooo bored! And I have to take out money for next weekend anyway. I can just take it out now, and pull out 10 pounds for tonight. No, I really shouldn't. Oh well, screw it I'm doing it! .... But I'll be going alone and will look super lame by myself at the pub. So? Should I take a book? Seriously Matt, you're going to take a book and read by youself at a pub? What is wrong with you? Ok, no book, but I'll take my iphone and play games. Yeah... that's a lot better. I am probably the lamest person ever. Oh well. I really shouldn't go. I'm going."

So off I go to a pub called, appropriately enough, The Queen's Head. I walk in and order a Guinness, and the bartender was super nice, and kept saying things like "Anything for you, young man". I couldn't tell if he was creepily hitting on me (He was like, 50) or just being polite. So I grab my drink and sit in a corner, and start reading a book on my iphone.

The pub was pretty nice, with a really relaxed atmosphere, and it wasn't super crowded like many of the other pubs in Chelsea. As I'm "reading", I'm eavsedropping on other conversations, which were pretty amusing. But as I finish my first pint, I again think of how lame I look sitting in the corner by myself. So I finish, and think to myself "Should I just go home? Or should I stay for another pint and try to be social and intrude on someone's conversation?" Of course, I stayed for one more. However, this time I didn't retreat to my cozy little corner with my beer, but instead I stayed at the bar, standing between a guy flipping coasters (or beer mats as they called them) and trying to catch them in the air, with another man watching and making fun of his lack of skill.

After failing to catch his coasters too many times, the guy on my left introduced himself as Beckett. Easy enough to remember, I figured, because its like Samuel Beckett. He's about 5'2" at the most, and looked to be in his late twenties. The guy on my right.... oh man. The guy on my right was about 50 years old, had multiple piercings in each ear, and obviously did WAY too many drugs in his younger years. I can't remember his name for the life of me, but if you took Austin Powers and Jack Sparrow and combined them, then turned that character into a real person... That was this man. We'll call him Crazy Old Dude. So the three of us start talking, and of course as soon as I open my mouth they realize I'm a Yank (Well, crazy old dude thinks I'm from Canada). So I explain that I'm from Texas ("But you don't have that southern drawl???" Cue British imitations of a Texas accent) and I'm here for the semester, and the bartender gets interested and starts talking to us as well. "So what, you don't have anything better to do on a Thursday night than check out the local gay pubs???" he asks? So I explain to him that my roommate needed the room for a bit (the lame excuse that I came up with while walking there) and that I had yet to go to a gay pub in London. At this point, I had finished pint #2, and he asks if I'd like another. I respectfully decline, thinking of my limited finances, and he replies with "Ah, you Yanks are a bunch of lightweights aren't ya?"

WAS THAT A CHALLENGE????? Bitch, get me another beer.

So Beckett, Crazy Old Dude and I continue talking about a bunch of nothing. Most of what Crazy Old Dude is saying isn't making ANY sense at all, filled with random stories that involved getting arrested in Thailand for driving on the wrong side of the road, and getting into a fight with Micky, Minnie, Donald, and Goofy. ("You can always tell when a Yank has been to Florida..." ...WHAT???). I smiled and laughed in what I hoped were the appropriate places, and when Crazy Old Dude (I'll simply refer to him from now on as COD) went to the gents room to relieve himself, I turned to Beckett and said "This dude is fucking nuts!"
"Oh My God, I'm so glad you said that. I saw you laughing and smiling and I thought you knew what was going on." Beckett said.
"NO! I'm just faking it!"

Soon enough, the bell rings, signaling the closing of the bar. I wasn't quite ready to go home yet, considering it was only 11pm, and I could tell the others weren't either. COD suggests that we go to a place called "The Stag" which was kinda close, but we'd still have to take a cab. "I don't know" I said, "I really shouldn't be spending any more money tonight." Watch. me. work. "Thats ok, I'll pay for the cab, both of your covers and your first drinks!". Beckett and I glance at each other... Done. Beckett leans over and says "I think we should stick together. Because who knows where this guy is taking us. He's bonkers." And I agreed.

Now, real quick, lets sum up this situation. I'm by meself at a gay pub, and am about to hop into a taxi with 2 guys who I just met, one of whom is certifiably insane. Is this the best decision I've ever made? Probably not. But I didn't come to London to sit on my arse and not meet people and do crazy things. So, here we go.

As promised, COD payed for the cab, mine and Beckett's cover, and our first pints (which is actually pint number four for me that evening, but who's counting?). The place was another gay bar that was open later. The cool thing about this one was that it had a second floor which, according to COD, is where they have fringe theatre! Sweet! Nothing was playing that night, but I made a mental note to come back.

In case you didn't know this about me, I am TERRIBLE with names. And true to Slayter form, I had already forgotten both of these guys names. Now, there was no hope in recovering COD's name from my memory's database. BUT! I remembered details about Beckett's name.

Cue frantic text to Laura.
Me: This is important. American playwrights whose last names begin with B. Go.
Laura: Eric Bagosian?
Me: Fail.
Laura: Wait, what?

Luckily, he repeated his name at one point and the day was saved. Because I got game, I got another free drink that night. (Pint #5), and was offered another one after that, but considering the situation, I knew that probably wasn't a good idea. Fun fact: Beckett was a theatre major, does costume design and acts, his father designs aircrafts for BAE, and his mother teaches at a primary school. We're practically the same person. Is that weird or what??? We both have similar takes on religion, politics, movies, etc. At one point we were talking about having to watch subtitles on movies, and I said "Do you know the movie A Clockwork Orange? That's the first movie that I saw that was in English, but I still needed subtitles" And he replied, "Yeah, I just designed costumes for that show!" Weird similarities like this kept popping up all night. Great guy.

I guess the point of this epicly long story is that this was yet another crazy, impulsive, probably bad decision, but it turned out to be a great one. I "bonded with the locals" as the bartender put it, and made new friends, and had a really fun night that I would have never had if I had not grown a pair and decided to spend money that I probably shouldn't have spent and decided that it was ok to be a loner at the local gay pub.

Tonight, Laura and I are going to see "An Ideal Husband" by Oscar Wilde. Score.