The (mis)adventures of Super-S

Super-M and I are leaving the Students’ Union building with one of his coursemates (here it’s not a program (or programme ) or department, but a course), when SuperM asks this “Southern” Irish lad from Waterford if he plays football. “Oh, you mean soccer?” he says. “Is that what they call it in Ireland?” SuperM smirks. “We’re IN fuckin’ Ireland, mate,” Waterford boy replies. “And, yes, I like soccer. Give us a shout if you want a game sometime.” And then this Colin Farrelesque (nowhere near as dashing, but sporting the requisite leather jacket and multiple silver rings) stalks off into the rainy night.

***

MY coursemates have planned a “12 Pubs of Christmas” pub crawl for the evening. It starts at 6pm, but I get out of Spanish class at that time and don’t catch up with them until they’re at the the third pub, around 8. By the fourth pub, the main organizer of the crawl is quite far gone it seems. He pulls out the list of pubs left to hit, and it seems he has miscounted as there are only 9 pubs on the list.

I love that it’s written on legal notepaper

He confidently shrugs it off and says we’ll figure it out, and we carry on to pub number five where I introduce Bryn and some other coursemates to the addictive quiz machine. These things are great, and I’m sure they exist in the US but I’d never played until SuperM introduced me here. They are also very addictive, so much so that I had to drag the usually level-headed and responsible Bryn out of the pub when it came time to go, with promises that there would be a similar machine at the next stop. (There wasn’t.)

***

Things sort of fall apart at the eighth pub on the stop. Half of the group (myself included) just stay where we are for an hour or so instead of moving on to the next two pubs. SuperM shows up with a hip flask full of Jameson whiskey (all class, my boy) and I start to realize that it’s been a very long time since I’ve drunk this much. But I feel great and I’m having such a good time with everyone. SuperM and I are especially entertained by my Scottish classmate who regales us with stories of her travels to Afghanistan and Beirut, and tells us that her “local” in Glasgow is the exact same pub as the one where Begby throws the pint over the balcony in the famous scene from Trainspotting (one of my all-time favorite movies). We’ve both got a wee bit of a crush on her.

Eventually we make it to the last stop, a club called the Stiff Kitten where I have been promised there will be hip hop music playing. It’s been a long while since I’ve shook my booty, and nothing will get me grooving like some hip hop, good or bad. Unfortunately, when we get there we are met with a lot of techno dance stuff which is alright, but Bryn and I had been looking forward to shaking what our mamas gave us. They do eventually play some hip hop, and one of our coursemates, the whitest little Northern Irelander who ever was, and who always impresses us in class with his deep, philosophical insights, tears up the dance floor with moves that he got from I don’t know where.

As always the dancing and positive vibes make me happy and giddy and I’m in love with everyone (no ecstasy required). It’s not until we slouch home at 2 a.m. that I start to feel ill and realize I haven’t eaten in nearly 12 hours.

***

This morning I wake up at 8 am after a very rough night to attend physiotherapy for my elbow. While it’s somewhat painful to be up after five hours of fitful sleep, it’s actually nice to be out in the cold crisp morning. My session goes well, and by the end of it I’m able to fully extend my arm. Now I just have to work further on the bending.

While I’m lying there with a heating pad over my arm sort of drifting off, I hear the man behind the curtain next to mine, who is also receiving physio for his elbow, telling his therapist that he’s keen to get his elbow in shape before Christmas because he’s taking his young sons on a skiing holiday. “We went for the first time last year, and it was a grand holiday. My boys loved it. Forty years on this earth and it was the best holiday I’ve ever had.”

And the hope and happiness in his voice, and the anticipation of spending another grand holiday with his sons makes me smile wide for the hundredth time in the last 24 hours.