Without classes or full-time employment to give real structure to the week, the days seem to flow into a long cycle of wake, write, eat, sleep, repeat. The weekend has lost some of its luster because, with the exception of Sunday mornings, it's pretty much like the rest of the week.
That said, having the freedom to go out Thursday night has its perks.
We went to a bar called Siglo last night, which was virtually empty at 9:30. Sadly, the dance area upstairs (including the pole) was closed off, but the DJ kept playing cheesy pop, and the bartenders, at least one of whom was in training, were friendly. The trainee actually misjudged the amount of mixer needed in a cocktail, resulting in a free drink for Rachel. I am fairly certain that I had the cheapest night out - in an effort to actually drink something Scottish over here, I had a Grant's, which took me about two hours to finish. Whisky is definitely an acquired taste.
The poor trainee bartender actually carded almost everyone in the group as well, to mixed amusement and annoyance. Ruth and I dodged the bullet; I'm not sure how she did it other than by looking rather sophisticated, but I think mine may have had something to do with ordering straight whisky.
Siglo was followed by Three Sisters, which gave us a group of sketchy older men, an accommodating DJ, and Michael's amazing rendition of the Hammer Dance, after which it was widely agreed that we can now die happy.
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