Friday evening, freshly out of work, David and I set out on the longest road trip we've ever been on together. A five hour drive to Manchester. (It never fails to amuse me that we've been into France and Belgium in about half that time!)
The drive was pretty easygoing. Not much traffic at all, we chatted the entire way and barely noticed the time pass. We got to Manchester at midnight and directed ourselves towards the Thistle, where we'd booked and paid for a room about a month before.
We approached reception and handed over our booking confirmation. When you see the night receptionist's face drop the way this guy's did... you kinda know something's gone wrong with your reservation.
The story is simple, really: Manchester United were playing home yesterday. Manchester's hotels were brimming over with (drunken) fans. We were not part of that crowd in the least. We were in Manchester for the award-giving ceremony of the BCTTT, to be held on Saturday evening. Long story short, the Thistle overbooked itself for the weekend. They were counting on the fact that David and myself (amongst countless other poor unwitting travellers, I'm sure) would not turn up. But we did, and they had no room for us.
So - very long (and loud) story short - after a lot of shouting on my part (David had/has no voice or he'd no doubt have participated), they shipped us off to the MacDonald down the road, a far superior hotel where we were treated to a Junior Executive Suite (no other rooms were available) for all of 2.5 waking hours until we had to check out again and go back to the (insert cuss words here) Thistle to find out whether a room had magically become available.
Luckily for them, it had. We couldn't have checked in faster. Unfortunately for us, the morning we'd allocated to doing some sightseeing was instead spent running from one hotel to the other, but by that time - I'll be honest - any enthusiasm to see Manchester had well and truly evaporated. All my energy had been spent during the telling off I'd given the night receptionist at the Thistle the night before.
Hotel drama over (see my tweets for a pure display of rage), we headed into the city centre where I of course bought shoes and later met up with two online friends (Tanja and Leo, and Tanja's fiance Rob and their two angels Aleks and Maya) whom I've known since around 2004 and had never actually met! This meet up had been a long time coming indeed!
That didn't last long enough unfortunately, but we had to head back to the hotel room we now had to get ready for the award-giving dinner in the evening. Dress code was 'Smart with a Touch of Pink' (all thanks to Scotty who is obsessed with all things pink... this is important for later).
The dinner was at the Malmaison, and it was a pretty smart dinner. Most men were in suits - some even in tuxedos, women were in dresses. Scotty too wore a dress. A pink dress with a pink bag and pink socks to go with his (not just for the event) pink hair.
Dinner over, it was time for the awards. David was amongst the awarded, as was Scotty, who decided a costume change was called for to accept his award. Off came the dress...
There are some things no person should never see. A 6'4" man in a bright pink mankini (think Borat) is one of them. And even further up on that list is said man in mankini with 'body parts' slipping out, parading the dining room (with bits out) and eventually moving into the bar area still in no more than the strip of elastic that is the mankini. I am not one to speak against exhibitionism, but even I draw a line at that! [edit: there has apparently been an apology]
I do have photos, but I will spare you all the scarring mental images that currently fill my mind. (though if you're feeling particularly brave...)
The drive back felt longer. I seem to have caught whatever it is David has, which means my voice is planning a little vacation too, leaving in it's place tonsils the size of tennis balls. Fun times.
not a Man U fan,
Posts
