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So a stalwart few went to Romania, not really knowing what to expect when they got there. They had spoken to Romanian citizens and had basically been questioned as to why they would care to visit Romania. This raises certain concerns. Why would we visit? Were we about to make a massive mistake? What kind of horrors would present themselves on this excursion? But now that everybody is back safely in their homelands, the question has been answered. Why would you visit Romania?
Cause it’s fucking awesome!
Why Am I Naked?
The first night was one of supreme merriment. Everybody settled in to his or her little cabins and made their way down to a BBQ that is there for communal use by the campsite. I myself was already pretty drunk by this time thanks to a lack of eats and a good few Ursus beers already swilling around in my system. The mood was a positive one though and as we all settled around the table, good times well and truly rolled.
Now, if my memory is a wee bit patchy then I apologise, and anybody who was there, please feel free to amend what I’m saying. The thing is, BAM is what is commonly referred to as an ‘Awesome Human Being’. As well as bringing T-shirts for everybody to mark the occasion, he also brought a shit ton of alcohol and home made wine. The best thing by far though, was mici. A sausage like compendium of animals that was fired up on the BBQ for all to feast on. It was a source of fierce discussion among the masses, mainly people saying that it was sausage, and BAM saying that it was in fact NOT sausage. I can’t really remember the reasons in favour why it was or wasn’t, but since he made it with his own hands, I think he should get the final say.
Anyway, the night commenced, and some people got a little more animated than others. We were perched on these rather dubious little benches that were remarkably flimsy. So I was sitting having a glass of…. Something, and Greasy appears and decides he’s not sharing. Or he was sitting having a glass, and I decided I wasn’t sharing. I can’t quite recall at this juncture. So we pushed and we shoved and it was all rather juvenile. Then we had a little play fight, which got me punched in the head. So enough was enough, I wanted that bench more THAN LIFE ITSELF!!!
I tried to grab the whole thing from under him, and in doing so, completely dismantled it underneath him, sending him falling flat on his ass on the floor, and me holding a now rather pointless piece of bench. I kept it close by though, just in case any bears appeared.
You’ll have to excuse me, as the rest of the night kind of merged in to one indecipherable ball of drunkenness. I do remember having deep and meaningful discussions with various SpA members, I just can’t remember what was said, or indeed, who I was talking to.
The night had to draw to a close eventually though, and so everybody would stroll back to his or her cabins to turn in for the night. Or in Greasy and mine’s case stumble and fall back to the wrong cabin to assault/vomit all over the place. I should add though, that I kind of lost my way initially and walked into the camps pond.
To my credit though, I did realise pretty quickly that no, this isn’t the ground I’m walking on, but is in fact, some kind of non-ground. And my Mum always taught me not to walk on non-ground. Even when supremely shit faced.
I eventually found my way though, although by this point, everybody had well and truly cleared off. I was having a hard time remembering where my cabin was, so I thought if I found Greasy then I’d be able to get to bed. Turns out that if I had found him, all I would have got was covered in sick and a pair of girl’s pyjama’s to wear, so maybe it’s fortuitous that I didn’t.
What I did find was a completely wrong cabin with nobody I knew in it. Instead of using the softly softly approach to try and ascertain whether I was in the right cabin though, I decided to barge into the room where people were sleeping and repeatedly slap the person in the bottom bunk shouting;
GREASY!
GREASY!
GREASY!
One of the guys from the other bunks raised opposition to my unprovoked attack, and on clarifying that it wasn’t Lim-Dul, I went on my way. I later reasoned that if those people were Italian’s, then it would probably have been reported as a racially motivated attack. So lucky that they weren’t.
I did eventually find my way to the right cabin though and have a little snooze. And by that, I mean I slipped into a booze coma.
So I awoke the next day, awakened by the cries of;
Why am I naked!?
A good question really, and one that required an answer post haste. I surfaced and headed outside and tried to gather myself in order to better understand why such a question would be raised. And so the story goes.
Turns out that Greasy had also gone to the wrong cabin. But unlike me, he was in a SpA cabin. He walked through the front door and instead of the usual kind of greetings usually shared by people such as ‘Hello’ or ‘I’m home’ he decided to vomit all over himself and the floor.
And so he was covered in his own vomit. Not a pleasant experience when you’re turning in for the night, but the solution was a simple one. Haphazardly grab a towel to (kind of) clean up the vomit, and then put on his pyjama’s, ready for bed.
All fine and well McMoist, I hear you say. A satisfactory ending to the tale.
But no, I’m afraid not. You see, Greasy doesn’t wear or own any pyjamas. So in fact, what he had done, was strip off completely and put on a pair of DG’s pyjama’s. And then from what I know, fell asleep in the front room of the cabin. A rather uncomfortable place by anybodies standards.
So he was right to wonder why he was naked. My biggest question was though, why the hell would somebody who doesn’t own pyjama’s, think that they were his?
Still bloody funny though!
Last edited by DrMcMoist on 29 Aug 2010, 02:38, edited 1 time in total.
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DrMcMoist
[SpA]SaintK
ditch
[SpA]BAM
annarack
Fkin well written, just reliving the holiday again, and i wasn't even there the first day 
(Got filled in directly after i arrived 
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