How To Make A Taxi Driver Cry

I just don't know where to start with the weekend I have just experienced. Seriously, so many things happened, especially yesterday...

Ok, it makes sense to start at the beginning. Get ready for the most amazing, yet hazy and sketchy tale of the weekend that promised so much, and gave so much more.

Friday night had come. Excitement was off the scale and so was my patience as I had to wait the best part of 40 minutes for Mr. OCD to make sure his fridge was the right temperature and the TV was in the exact same place it was 6 months and 14 days ago. Still, at 5:40pm, we were on the road to Manchester. We were on the wrong road to Manchester, but none the less, we were on the road! The SatNav was playing up, and it sent us through Northampton, but soon enough we were back on track and only a small time was lost. 3 long hours it took for us to get there, but the anticipation of what was bound to be an interesting weekend kept us going. Just what we were getting ourselves into though, wasn't to be expected!

Friday night, historically, is the better night. We went to 5th Avenue, (yep, Beddoe's favourite place in the whole wide world), and it was a good night. Drink, good music, dancing, it was fantastic to live a life once more. Beddoe recieved compliments from someone that he was the body double of Justin Bieber and we witnessed the homecoming of Hagrid, but otherwise, nothing extraordinary happened, unless you count Beddoe's walking speed and his tendency to wander off leaving me and Colin wondering where the hell we are.. We left the club at... 3? What followed was an extremely cold walk to find some food. We ended up in SPAR but Beddoe wanted to make the long journey to Gemini to see his old friend Ali The Happy Man, and by the time we got back to Beddoe's it was very late, and we, were very cold.

I offered to sleep on the very hard and very uncomfortable brown sofa downstairs, (no... wait.. upstairs?), so not much sleep was gained before we awoke Saturday morning. Not that we knew, but that night was something to behold.

Before that though, I drove the others to The Odeon cinema in The Trafford Centre to see the new Potter movie. Me, being a self-confessed Potter geek, was quite looking forward to it and I'm glad to say it was a good movie, despite Beddoe's best efforts at trying not to laugh at obvious innuendos about wands... Boy, that kid is ridiculous. Arsenal being humiliatingly beaten by Spurs and Chelsea losing yet again, also increased my mood and I, seeing as "I was being paid for this", (and I let the others know of this aswell!), was ready to party.

The last couple of times, Saturday nights in Manchester have kind of failed to happen. Once, I just didn't want to, and the other one was just a classic fail. I was determined to not let that happen again, and, I think it's safe to say, I didn't.

Well, it's open to debate really. It didn't last very long, but during the time it did... Boy...

Ok, once again, we shall start from the beginning. This is going to be a bit hazy so bear with me.

We got back from the Trafford Centre at about 7? I can't even remember that.. We had something to eat and I embarked on my first drink of the night seeing as the JD needed to be seen off. I wasn't going to let good alcohol go to waste! As "pre-drinks" wore on, I got a bit more ... exuberant and after a few classic Mitten-style texts and calls to a few others, (apologies), we were ready to go. Beddoe's pleas of going to visit a Gentleman's Club were largely ignored, and we stepped into the cab to go to... somewhere... Yeah.. Where was it again?

Font! We went to a place called Font, after queueing up for ages simply to get some money. We got talking to a pair of students from Newcastle, who were completely sober and must of looked at us wondering how the hell one person can be so drunk so early. The thoughts of, "lightweight", were visible in their eyes, but I didn't care. I was reminded in the morning that I spent the whole time apologising for my disgraceful drunkenness and also hit the shutter of the shop behind us, for no reason whatsoever. The acts of the drunk are just unexplainable..

Still, we finally reached the cash point and, I swear, my intention was to take out 20 quid. I knew I had had a lot, and I definitely wouldn't be needing more than that. Seeing as my eyes were already a bit blurry, (I know... I'm a featherweight, I don't drink these days!), I ended up just pressing a button. When £40 came out, my thoughts were this: "Suppose I'd better spend it then!"

And spend it I did! In Font, I went absolutely mental. My thoughts when drunk base around being a popular guy and trying to get on well with complete strangers. We got talking to a group of lads who were drunk, but not Mitten Drunk, and I reckon they might well have had a free night! £2 cocktails were not to be refused and I must have had 5 or 6 Sex On The Beaches aswell as a couple of Moo-Moo's myself on top of what the hell I bought these randomers.. Don't as me, I don't know! What the hell are Moo-Moo's?!

(I have just been told by Mr.B, they are in fact 'Woo-Woo's'... That'll explain it....!)

You must remember that I had seen off a bottle of JD and some vodka and a few bottles of Corona, (don't tell Colin!), back at the house, which is way more than enough for someone like me... But I went mad. I had promised that I was going to go all out, but I knew I was going to over do it. My thoughts again? This is going only one way, so let's get to it! It's so immature I know... I really should know better.

The photos, which I haven't yet seen, must be ridiculous. A bit of embarrassment is coming my way I reckon, but at the time, I couldn't have cared one jot.

After I had done my good deed for the day, (gave a tramp a tenner you know!) We moved on to a place called Factory? Which is where it all started to go a bit wrong. I paid a mammoth £6 to get in, and lasted 10 minutes, paying not enough money for a few VodBulls, (i have literally just remembered, I may have been about £2 short...!), but I didn't care. I knew exactly what was coming. Or did I?

To save myself the endless embarrassment of the inevitable vomit that was going to come, I made my way outside, avidly followed by a drunk pair of friends, and made my way to ... nowhere! I just walked. For some reason, I felt very, very angry. Maybe at my childishness of letting myself get into a state where I tell myself I would never get into again. This time however, I had prepared for such a predicament so maybe had a little mental preperation for what was going to come. Beddoe kept trying to grab my shoulders, trying to avert the direction I was walking in, almost like an OAP being guided by a nurse, but I shrugged him off time after time. I remember it starting to get annoying as I just wanted to walk. At the time, I didn't care where.. Just walk.. Beddoe grabbed my shoulders yet again, in an attempt to get me to stop and I may have boiled over. It was definitely the drink talking, I wasn't really angry at Beddoe, I was just angry at myself. I aimed a punch for his nose, but missed and hit his shoulder, before walking off at break neck speed to the nearest cab. I must say now, I didn't want to hurt Beddoe, but I didn't want him grabbing my shoulder every 10 seconds. The effects that drink has..

Now. I bet this taxi driver didn't know what was coming. I sure did. I knew exactly what was going to happen, and opened the window in preperation. As we were driving, it didn't take long... I won't be graphic, but let's just say... I aimed for outside the window... and missed.

I didn't stick around to get murdered by a taxi driver. I hadn't bothered doing my seatbelt, and just opened the door and ran. Just ran. I heard the cries of the taxi driver shout but I didn't care. I don't remember what happened next, but a lot of hijacking of phones and facebook accounts ensued, while I was sleeping..

The stories next morning were something to behold. The taxi driver had charged Colin £40 for the mess, seeing as he could no longer take any more passengers. I duly paid Colin back in the morning, but the crying of the taxi driver will always stick with me. I might aswell have slaughtered his family for the crying that I heard. It seemed I had ruined his livelihood, but hey.. it happens. It didn't help either that Colin broke out into a chorus of Taio Cruz's 'Break Your Heart'... Not the best timing there mate... He legged it aswell before the cabbie swung for him!

There are so many things that happened, but the details in my head are incredibly hazy. It will take some time and anecdotal updating for me to get to grips with exactly what I had done to Manchester. I had bruised it, and I reckon I was probably the drunkest guy in Manchester for one night.

The reason I went mad was because of frustration. Frustration at working while everyone else is playing. I needed to let go and now, I have. It may not have been very healthy for me, or the bank balance, but even now, I don't care. I'm not fussed. I won't want to drink for a long time now, so it won't matter that I have to go to work, because I wouldn't want to go out. I suppose it can't go on like that, but maybe it will...

University entered my head aswell. I may well not be able to keep up with a load of 18 year-olds which is good news for my degree. Bad news for my friendships though, I reckon. I may need a bit more education on that though..

As a weekend though, if there are stories to tell, and boy, there were, then you know it's been a good one. I didn't even feel that bad the morning after. A bit of a headache but in a few hours I was fine and after a Subway and a couple of non-alcoholic beverages, I was ready to make the drive home. That was long. But, in the same way the anticipation had kept us going on the way here, the anecdotes kept us going on the way back.

I may have gone way O.T.T and yes, I may have endangered myself more than I have ever done, but I don't care. Life is for living, and I refuse to live it at a petrol station.

10/10.

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