Ever since Graham went skydiving in New Zealand – the ultimate adrenaline–junky fix – I started thinking about my lifestyle and how it’s not particularly adrenaline filled. Sure I work on boats a bit and I’ve crossed the Atlantic on one… an achievement I’m proud of but they don’t provide that buzz I imagine you get for doing something really really stupid. The problem for me is that I’m not a very brave person. I don’t think I’ll ever go skydiving or jump off a bridge with an elastic band attached to my ankles…it’s just not my style – the most adventurous thing I’ve ever done involved Stuart McKimmie…but that’s a story for another day. But I have been craving that fix, that buzz you can get from such daring activities.
Anyway, so last week I took it upon myself to push the boat out…to live a little.
First off I went for a tried and tested scary thing to do, sure to get anyone’s heart racing – “Pissing Off JB”.
Good god. I could go base-jumping in a Zorb whilst wrestling with a Great White Shark and I still wouldn’t be comparable to getting shouted at by JB down the phone. I’m pleased I didn’t pick up the phone that night. JB – you’ve got a great angry voice. You’ll make a fantastic father one of these days. Anyway JB, in all seriousness, it’s all done with love. I’m sensing you didn’t appreciate it, but we all love you and I wouldn’t do it if you didn’t react so spectacularly. I can’t imagine that means you’ll be any happier with me, but, well you’ve always been right, I am an asshole.
Anyway, incurring the wrath of JB certainly got my heart-pounding but it was all to short-lived….I was left craving more. I began searching everywhere for my next fix. I tried everything. Driving to Aberdeen with my eyes shut…nothing. Eating pumpkin in a sushi restaurant…NOTHING. Then on Saturday night after dancing with Graham (which didn’t work either whilst we’re on the subject), I got my fix…
Graham was working his magic on a lucky lady (though inevitably ended up being egregiously cockblocked – the list goes on Wazz) so off I toddled to the toilet. My toilet trip was thankfully uneventful, but on the way back I got chatting to a very nice Polish girl by the name of Ella. We chatted away, had a little kiss (a gentleman never tells……well, not unless he’s asked) and then went off to an ATM to get more money (I had to pay her obviously) then back into the club to find Graham alone, post-CB and I introduced Ella to him and they started chatting. It was as they were chatting that I looked around the club a bit. My gazed stopped quite quickly on a large skin-headed fellow who was about 3 metres away and staring at me. Before I had a chance to think anything about it, he gave me something new to worry about. He raised his thumb to his throat and dragged it across his neck in a guillotine-type fashion. In case his message wasn’t clear enough (he was only 3 metres away) he followed it up by pointing at me. Now I admit that I’m not the most pigmented man on the planet, but I’m sure that even in that dark club, you could see the colour drain from my face. I tried to hold his gaze for a second – refusing to be intimidated by him – but I got all intimidated by him and had to look away…
A few minutes passed and I could feel him burning a hole in the side of my head (with a lighter, not his gaze). That was short lived as he came over and started talking to Ella and they animated chatted away in what I’m guessing was Polish at which point I chose to collect my jacket (and my bowels, which it turned out I’d left on the couch) and got the hell out of there. Terrifying…but what a rush.
Good times. So now I’m back at work and I’ve never been so happy to be writing a report. It might not be exciting to some, but my guess is it’s better than being stabbed to death a Polish skinhead / Waking up in a bathtub full of ice…
