Contrary to popular opinion, some of the best decisions can be made whilst drunk. Falling asleep in public places has never been so much fun. Or easy.
This tale begins on an anniversary, and what better day to live life than on a day when we celebrate it? After consuming enough alcohol to make tomato ketchup seem thirst-quenching, and more rum than the average pirate would enjoy, we set off to our first port of call. A nightclub by the name of Galaxy. A more honest name would be "come get fucked up here and get sleazy with the sluts - we're all doing it!". If you've come to a club with concrete for a floor, you know what the deal is - we simply honoured the transaction. Drink, dance, drink, request song, drink and dance, drink, drink, piss, drink, dance, go home and puke.
We sat and engaged in delightful discourse, only the most prestigious of subjects to talk about - post-bar conversation at it's most regal. What was it we talked about? Kafka or rape? Brave new world or "who the, the fuck just left (slur) their bag in the (slur) doorway?". Your two heroes of this story sat down. One turned to the other.
"Let's go to France"
And so it began.