Last October I went to America with my family. We spent a week in Orlando, doing all the usual shit, like going to Hooters, and then travelled up to Virginia, where we used to live.
While we were there, we had dinner with a couple of my Dad's pilot friends he used to fly with when we lived over there. The dinner was good, in a really nice beach front hotel. After the dinner, Dad and his friends announced they were going to hang around for a few drinks, and I said I'd pass and let them catch up. 'No fucking way man, we're going to get you fucked up!' says Puck. Words cannot even begin to describe how incredible this guy was. The line I've used a lot is 'If you put a Bald Eagle through a juicer, Puck would be what was left.' The guy is a force of nature.
So we wander out onto the beach front bar, which was pimp as shit, all couches around driftwood fires. All the booths are taken, except for one which only has a young couple sat in it. Dad and I turn to go back inside as Puck says 'Fuck those guys, let's see how quickly they leave once we spark up some cigars' and then whips out a makeup box full of fat cigars. Lights one up on his blowtorch of a lighter and kicks back. We all grab one and order some drinks from a lovely waitress who's name escapes me. The talk turns to fighter jets and I chip in when I can. The couple leave sharpish after the wind turns and they end up in a cloud of cigar fog and swearing. We chat for a wee while longer until this older woman comes over and asks if anyone has a light. Puck gives her his lighter and then invites her to join us. She introduces herself as Vicky, from New Jersey. We talk some more until she finishes her fag and leaves. After she's gone back inside Puck turns to me, looks me dead in the eye and says 'You're going to fuck Vicky tonight.' 'I'll be alright bud, she's not really my type.' 'Ok. You ever been raped? I saw the way she looked at you, she wants you bad.' 'I think I'll live.' 'But think about the advantages. She's from Jersey, she's obviously got Mafia connections. Shag her, and then ten years down the line you could be in New York getting chucked out a club and be all 'Guys, I fucked Vicky' and then they let you back in and buy you drinks all night.' 'You make a convincing argument, but I think I'll pass.' 'Suit yourself, but I tell you now, it's going to happen.' For the rest of the night, every time the waitress comes out to refill our drinks he asks her to send one to Vicky and tell her it was from me. I then have to have a fight with him each time to convince the waitress not to send the drink. We also keep asking the waitress to join us for a drink, but she refuses.
During a lull in the conversation, I ask Puck where he got all the cigars, as the box is a pretty impressive collection. 'All over the place man, but if you think this is impressive you ain't seen shit. I've got four more of these boxes in my car. Had to chuck out some road flares and whatever, but fuck road safety man. Got another ten boxes in my closet at home. I'm set for life.'
After a while we'd racked up quite an impressive array of empty glasses, and I notice that all of Dad's friends have made a point of placing them right in front of me. I ask them why, and they just wink and say 'We're looking out for you man, trust us.' Out comes the waitress who's name still escapes me. She goes to pick up the glasses, and because of where they're placed, has to rest her boobs on my shoulder every time she bends over to pick them up. Dirty bastards, but I appreciated the effort. The night gets a bit hazy after that, as I think we started doing Jaeger Bombs and whatever cocktail the waitress fancied bringing us out. I do remember however, that eventually we did convince the waitress to come and have a drink with us, although she was convinced the whole time that we were actually sent by the hotel to tempt her and were going to get her fired.
I wake up the next morning hungover as fuck, which is never fun at the best of times, least of all a family holiday. The smell of cigar smoke follows me around all day, causing me to need to run off to the toilet to spew every half hour or so. Eventually, as I sober up, I remember that the reason I keep smelling cigar smoke is due to the fact that I'd drunkenly put half a cigar in my jacket pocket at the end of the night. Like a twat.
The End.
(Personally, writing this down, I'm not happy that it comes across as well as if I was saying it in person. There's also bits and pieces I didn't want to include here. So, if you want to get the whole experience out of this post, please do ask me to tell you it next time I see you.)
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