Ticking boxes.

Trip Start Sep 28, 2011
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Trip End Ongoing


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Flag of Colombia  ,
Sunday, March 4, 2012

It was only meant to be a couple of drinks as I left the hostel late last night with a bunch of Aussie dudes intent on causing damage in town.  I end up finally going to bed at 9pm the following night.  Tonight that is.  In between I manage to meet a crazy Polish guy, some equally crazy locals, two crazy gay bar owners and a club full of crazy women.  I've not had a night like this since last week.

A number of years ago, when I first entered my 'experimentation phase', I managed to have some amazing times, meeting some of my best friends, who are still among my best friends to this day.  Stepping back from the party circuit and getting a decent job, a girlfriend and returning to society, you get the sense it was all vacuous, hollow nonsense.  What happens when you go out boozing with mates, and you take the booze away?  How many of those 'mates' are still as interesting and as interested in who you are?  How many of those people you meet at a party at 5am on a Sunday morning would you go for a coffee with next week? 

Upon dipping back into 24 hour party people I discovered many familiar faces, still doing the same things, still attending the same night, still with a melted face.  "Where've ye been Stuart?!!  They would slur, to which I simply replied I'd found a nice girl, a good job and I'd realised that lifestyle wasn't working for me.  I suggested they do the same.  Trainspotting glamourised it, Requiem For a Dream brought you back to reality.  On a slight tangent it's interesting to note that there has never been a film made that highlights the dangers of smoking weed.  It's all fun and games with Marijuana; a total laugh a minute. Pineapple Express and Dude Where's My Car.  In my experience it's just as, if not more dangerous than anything else.

So here I find myself, back in the old ways, no job, no girlfriend, no parents.  Traveling the world one party at a time.  Trying to fill a void and not really going about it in a sensible way.  Yet who is in the right here?  The 9 to 5 hardworking souls who spend their lives behind a desk, to be given the golden handshake at the end of 70 years, only to shuffle off the mortal coil?  Or the party hard types living outside the system, smoking weed in the backs of caravans and getting off their faces in the name of smelly peace and love?  Where is the happy medium?  I certainly don't have all the answers.  It feels alright at the time.

I sit at the hostel bar come 9pm still reeling from the previous night, day and the no sleep I've had.  As luck would have it the bar tender is the girl I liked who went with the taxi driver previous.  Somehow I manage to scribble a note and drop it into her line of sight:

Will you go out for a drink with me sometime?

(No taxi's)

Yes....No....

Perhaps it's just to get me to go to sleep that she ticks yes.  Nonetheless she was smiling as she did so, so whatever's happened over the past 24 hours I retire to bed pretty damn happy.  I'm going to feel a hell of a lot worse for the next two days, but this story is called "looking for Stu", and I have to go through a lot of crap to find him.





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jtothed on

i find that contradicting stu, poor show

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