This story was contributed by Joey, an American travelling through Europe:
After eating, we met up with two local girls. They were drinking Bulmers by a newly built bridge, which I guess is enough excite the locals in a town that small. We shot the shit until the girls led the way to get our drink on.
After a round at a pub, we went to a dance club. I disappeared from the group to scope out the talent. When I got back to our table Maz had some drunk Irishman in his face, a classic ginger who looked like he could put up a good fight. Apparently, the guy’s problem was that Maz had ordered a “black and tan.”
“You Yanks are lucky because if you were a Brit and ordered that drink we would fucking kill you,” the Irishman said.
A Black and Tan is a beer of 1/2 Guinness, 1/2 Bass or Harp’s. Because it’s thicker, the Guinness sits on top. Supposedly a harmless drink, but that’s in the United States. That’s not at all what it is in Ireland. I tried to follow the history lesson while occasionally looking over my back at all the Micks giving us dirty looks.
The “Black and Tans” were the English soldiers who enforced English law in Ireland in the 1920s. This ginger’s great-grandfather lived through it and the story is still passed down. The Black and Tans raped the women and burned the towns of those who opposed English rule. They wore black and tan uniforms, hence their nickname. I felt sorry for this Mick, nearly in tears when he finished his story. Maz apologized.
Maz, Isaac, the girls, and I went back to the dance club. The girls started dancing and wanted us to join. Isaac started doing every move in the book: the lawn mover, the pizza toss, the dice toss, and more. Everyone was laughing. Maz was scheming on the one he wanted, but his plan failed because he kept disappearing with one or the other and they caught on.
One of them, Laura, told me she smoked weed. I asked her to smoke with me when the bar closed. We all straggled out. Maz and Laura got in a cab but before it left, Laura called out to ask if I wanted to smoke a spliff. I got in. The cab dropped us off at Laura’s apartment. Maz may have been sarcastic in saying, “Thanks for coming. I didn’t want to walk home alone.”
At Laura’s disaster of an apartment, she pulled out a bag of ganja. We sat on her bed as she rolled a spliff. She passed to me and I hit it. After exhaling I noticed it tasted like tobacco. I remembered a spliff is a mix of weed and tobacco. She said everyone smokes like that over here. Anyone who doesn’t is crazy because pure weed would really fuck you up. I thought that was the point?
The rest of this story which was rated NC-17 has been edited out because this is a wholesome blog as I am now a family man.
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