We all know that students never need an excuse to go out and get drunk. In fact I was took part in a three day bender to celebrate the changing of the games machines in a pub. We started drinking at approximately 10.30am on the Monday and lasted until 00.01 am on the Wednesday. I know technically speaking it wasn't three complete days, but continuous drinking with no sleep, it's a feat that I have no illusions that I would fail spectacularly these days.
There are days however that were special to us when it came to drinking. Student loan days, the last night of the union and possibly the most important St Patricks Day. The day where we all claimed to have a great great grandmother of our fathers side to show that we were at least a little bit Irish and that gave us the excuse to go out and get absolutely gazeboed (as a side note I think Michael McIntyre was a genius for coming up with that term!).
During my first year of university, me and my fellow group of reprobates were unaware of the significance of this day and were totally unprepared for it. A quick drink down the union and taking part in the weekly Sunday afternoon quiz was what we thought awaited us, oh how wrong we were. What happened in the next seven or eight hours became the stuff of legend including for one of us a trip to the hospital for an unidentified drinking injury that resulted him being on crutches. The legend grew with the next years adventure when, with a little more knowledge under our belts and a gameplan in place we partook in a pub crawl around Luton, including heading off to Club Erin, an Irish bar that epitomised everything about the day. This was the night that heralded the start of a relationship that lasted on and off for the next couple of years for me, but that's a story for another time.
The story I want to focus in on happened during St Patricks day in our third year of study. By this time we were old hands at this, we knew what the score was, where to go and what was going to happen. We had all purchased the regulation green tops in a variety of different shades, well everyone apart from Deano, who walked into the Cork and Bull that morning wearing an England shirt. You know those moments in films where everyone stops what they are doing to stare at someone, all that was missing was the music cutting out and him telling everyone he'll be right back. Luckily he didn't get lynched and the day was off to a good start. The drinking commenced, the obligatory Guinness topped up with some shots of sambuca. At the time Danny and me had a little party trick of lighting the sambuca in our mouths and letting the flames spring out like a dragon. A practice that was stopped after Danny hiccupped one night and set light to the facial hair he had. We moved from the Cork and Bull, up to The Exchange, Yates, The Heights and into Club Erin.
This is where the day starts to go wrong for me, I'd been interested in a girl called Vicky at the time and by coincidence she was actually 100% Irish born and bred. We'd met each other a few weeks before and had started chatting hitting it off quite well. We were at the stage of a new relationship where we were seeing if maybe there could be something between us, a drunken snog at Liquid the previous Monday had given me some hope that maybe it would develop into something more.
It was here I made my first mistake of the night and tried to impress her with some Irish Dancing that the cast of Riverdance would have been proud of. Anyone who knows me, knows I have two left feet and can't dance to save my life and so it was proven on this day. Not only did I trip over my own feet and dislocate my finger but I also knocked over at least a dozen drinks that belonged to my entourage. After popping my finger back in place, which wasn't a clever idea looking back, and buying an expensive round to make up for the accident, any hope of getting lucky that night died.....or so I thought.
We left Club Erin and retreated to our home away from home, The Park, where by coincidence it was £1 a pint night, carnage ensued, people getting rowdier and one point a wrestling match started in the beer garden. The night was getting on, Vicky had gone off with her friends, I chose to remain with mine simply down to the fact I didn't think it was going to happen, we texted each other a few times, getting a little flirtier as time went on. A few of us hardy souls decided that we were going to head up to Liquid to carry on the night into the early hours, seeing as I worked there and could get free entry I thought why the hell not and was given a few drinks vouchers by the best boss in the world. The texting continued as I tried to persuade her to come meet me at Liquid. Alas she didn't want to come but invited me back to The Park where she currently was. Now to this day I couldn't tell you what happened in my head at this point. When she said The Park, I didn't automatically think of the place where I spent most of university days, no I thought she meant Wardown Park.
It was here I made my second major mistake of the day, instead of walking back through the town centre to The Park i took myself, alone the two and a half miles to Wardown park. To this day I couldn't tell you why, I blame my friends for leaving me alone in my drunken state! So I ended up at Wardown just after 1.30am in the pitch black. Dave, who by this point had gone back to The Park had bumped into Vicky and both of them were wondering where I had got to and after several attempts at trying to phone me to try and locate me, getting more worried by the minute, Dave finally got through to me and asked me where was I, in not such pleasant language. I explained where I was in the best possible way I could.
It was here I made my third mistake of the night. Dave told me to stay where I was and he would come and get me, however my attention was taken by a passing duck who I presume I must have woken up in my drunken state. I decided I must hug this duck. I started to chase it around climbed over a small fence to carry on the chase. Looking back I'm not 100% sure if I wanted to keep the duck as a pet or possibly turn it into duck pancakes, but the only thought was that I needed to get hold of this duck, for a short period of time this was my only thought. I was running back and forth trying to get the duck to agree to my wishes alas that quickly ended when unknown to me in the dark the pond was upon me and my foot went deep into it, soaking my foot and halfway up my leg.
I don't know if you've ever been in a similar position but suddenly having a leg plunged into cold water sobers you up a little, and I begun to ponder my choices that I'd taken during the day. Realising that it was a long walk home, I turned around and started trudging my way back into town, meeting Dave about half way back. We made it back to the house we shared on HIbbert Street and proceeded to eat crumpets whilst we watched Back to the Future III. The fact that I remember this after all the alcohol I consumed that day is a minor miracle but by this point after walking over five miles in the early hours had sobered me up.
There ends the duck tale, and as a final note, nothing more ever happened with Vicky, she soon got together with another guy whose name escapes me and I learnt my lesson about trying to chase wild animals when drunk.
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