This weekend I was invited to a boat party. There was this party organized on a boat. It was a big boat. The guy who invited me said there would be 250 people. Everyone paid 15 pounds to cruise the Thames in a drunken stupor.
I liked it. Although my friends and I were the only foreigners on the boat it was fun to watch the English do what they do best. I realize some may feel that they play football better than anybody else in the world. But from my experience there is not a people on the planet that party like the Brits.
These type of nights usually start with a bit of decency and small talk, this one definitely did. As we set sail for the west of England everyone looked fit, professional and handsome as the sun set over the Gerkin. But as London disappeared in the distance and the sun lowered to signal the end of another day the drunken party demons arose from deep within each of my boat mates.
Slowly with the steady rock and pitch of the boat I watched the party degenerate into wild a mix of Frankenstein dancing, desperate oggling and horny humping on the dance floor. By the end of the night only the most vile looking characters were left holding air and not snogging something. I’m not really sure humans are suited for overtly public displays of affection. But like a train wreck or a National Geographic show on mating species I couldn’t stop watching certain party goers bump, grind, leverage, fondle, pick and pull each other in mindless ecstasy.
When the boat finally docked I disembarked smiling and happy I had attended. A thought did cross my mind that I was one of the very few not participating in the restless festivities but I took comfort in that my snogging would come another day. I have much time to practice slober kissing.
In their memory I painted the scene on the left.