Saturday 28th June: Blog you Lazy Dog

Tim went off to visit the USS Midway today and I spent hours updating the blog. maybe I should get Tim to write a paragraph or two about his exploits.

In the evening we arranged to meet Jean and his son for dinner. Both agreed that jean was unlikely to take us anywhere too smart we turned up looking like tourists (which in fairness we are) for dinner in a bar (think Yates' perhaps). It turned out that Rodney and his two friends (TJ and Galen) were Top Guns. As Tim talked about fighter jets I glazed over slightly trying to hide the horrendous parallels I was drawing of the film in my head. I guess my response is a pretty standard female one so i didn't feel too guilty.

Dinner ended with credit card roulette in an attempt to get us up to speed for Las Vegas. We all dropped a card in and the waitress pulled one out at a time - the last one out would foot the bill. I, of course paid with reckless abandon - it wasn't like my card had all that much to offer. With two cards left (TJ and Galens I think), Galen pointed out that insanity was repeating the same activity, expecting a different result. TJ was apparently used to losing this game and this occasion was no different.

The evening continued around the corner in the Star Bar where we were assured the drinks were cheap. If they weren't cheap they were definitely strong, as I sipped on what tasted like a three shot gin and tonic. The place was right up our alley, having class equivalent to tourists out on a Saturday night in the same clothes they had been wearing for the past three months.

Finally we moved onto a piano bar, where the beer obviously caught up with me as with great incredulity I wondered why the pianist had not heard of Teenage Kicks. I desperately tried to think of a song they would know and I would like to listen to but by this point Tim wasn't 'hearing' me and those around where enjoying American classics. I was shocked to realise these weren't about walking 500 miles (which I have been informed was a Scottish band any way) or driving Chevy's to levies. I kept listening in vain hope I might recognise something , but as the alcohol levels rose it all sounded more and more like Elton John having an open mic session with U2.

The evening ended with a journey home in a rickshaw bike cab thing where I demanded the poor Eastern European boy let me take over as he was cycling too slowly. Tim and medal? Perhaps.