A three car convoy for a three hour drive. We all met the family we'd never see again. It was the hundredth time we'd seen them play live, but that's not why we were there.
"We're with the band." Holding up a guitar.
"Yeah, come in lads - there's an open bar!"
Food, free rooms and an inflatable slide, which if you're going to break your toe, must be the best way. Each painful step takes you back to the moment you'd say, 'the most sensible thing to do at this point, is for us four to race around this inflatable slide.' And that's a beautiful moment to be remember.
Even outrageous hangovers, early checkouts and a three hour drive the less exciting way couldn't take the smiles from our faces.
Phone conversation between cars (with poor reception):
Which way do we go?
No right turn.
Right? What? Which way?!
NO RIGHT TURN *points to 'no right turn' sign in front*
Straight? There's no fucking road straight! Fuck it, I'll get out and ask them.
Ah. No right turn. Left then.
This was a strange and nostalgic post for which I apologise, but I'm in a strange and nostalgic mood tonight.
Ha, Adam always referred to that weekend as 'If Carlsberg made parties.'