The Scottish Experience

I went outside last night to smoke a Cuban cigar. Finishing that, I went into the pub next door and ordered Scotch on the rocks. Next to me at the bar was a man who looked to be in his mid 40's, thinning hair, glasses, completely lit, demanding I make it a double. Then he went on a two minute cussing streak before his head went down on the bar for a short while. When he came to, he began singing Always Look on the Bright Side of Life from Monty Python's Life of Brian. I finished my Scotch and left him there, serenading the football game on the television.

This is what Glasgow looks like.

Saturday night, my flatmate and I went into town to the movies. We saw Surrogates, the "Bruce Willis really hates remote-operated drones" one, and it was alright. But that's not the point. The point is what I saw.




These two shots are a bit hazy and blurry because they were taken behind glass from my phone on the fifth of the movie theater. The Cineworld theater is tall. Very, very tall. We rode escalators for nearly five minutes just to get to the correct floor for our movie. It's also quite an astounding view out over the east side of Glasgow. A pity I can't point anything out to you. Perhaps when I go during the day, I'll be able to orient some of the landmarks.



This is precisely what it looks like: a dog and her copy of Flashdance on DVD. I don't know what more needs to be said, other than she wasn't treating it like a chew toy. No, she was calmly strolling down the road, owners in tow, proud of her new purchase. Good on you, dog.



Finally, this struck me for how very much like a Demotivator from Despair.com the entire scene was.

That and getting friendly with my neighborhood pub made up my Saturday night. The end.

In Memoriam

And so, the Grand Scottish Expedition suffers its first loss: my knife, Aggression.

I believe there are few reading this who don't understand how much my knife meant to me. I remember gramps and I going to Smoky Mountain Knife Works and buying it 11 years ago. Since then, I've had my knife by my side at almost all times, using it for everything from opening boxes to opening beer bottles to even fending off a small gang.

I'm almost certain it came out of my pocket yesterday, given that I walked at least 5 miles across Glasgow. The problem is where did it fall out? I didn't reach into my pocket much, so I've one suspicion where it possibly maybe fell out and where possibly maybe someone found it and turned it in; I'll certainly be dropping by there later today.

Otherwise, well. I suppose I should start looking for a new knife.

Weird; my knife's still in Tennessee. I completely hallucinated this whole bizarre incident.