We walked around for a bit looking for one of the 6,000 pubs in London but by that time they had all turned into bar-pubs if you catch my drift- and that time was 8:30. Finally, starved we strolled into a second floor look-out called Adam's Famous Ribs. We order a bottle of Pinot Grigio and the Mighty Meat Platter for Two (totally my idea). It was AMAZING not to get id-ed to drink, never again since the day after i get home i turn the big TWO-ONE. I also insisted that we order fish and chips cause everyone said london was famous for it and Dani insisted that we order another dish since shes famous for her eyes being bigger than her stomach. We decided on fijatas and when all the food came at the same time we thanked our lucky stars to be eating (we hadn't had anything since the beef on the plane). The chicken wings were legit and the fish and chips(fries) were so tasty. They came with a side of peas- being the health food nuts we are, the peas were the only thing left on the table. After a second bottle of Rose (with the accent so it sounds like Ros-ay) we paid our check in pounds and ventured to the IceBar.
It turns out that you can only go into the Icebar for a 45 minute session and only a certain amount of people are allowed in at a time. So when we arrived at 10:30 we ended up having to buy tickets for a 12:30 session and waited in the bar's adjacent lounge. The lounge was pretty edgey, decorated in silver beaded curtains neon blue and pink lights and tall glass vases. Since we had an hour to kill we decided to order a bottle of Chardonnay (fahncy right?). The bottle was finished and an hour later it was finally time to go in. Your 16 pound ticket got you in, a parka/pancho kinda thing with a fur eskimo hood and attached snow shoveling gloves and a free drink in an ice block with a hole in it.
This place was more for the experience than the party. The whole room (think a kitchen and dinning room combined) was made out of ice except for the metal floors. Benches were just solid ice-blocks stacked on top of each other and the bar and walls were solid ice. It was pretty chilly but not downright freezing. We each had our drink and took a bunch of pictures (check facebook) but by the time the countdown on the door got to nine minutes we were ready to go. Being jet lagged and schlepped around with baggage bigger than Brett we were ready to call it a night especially since we had to be in the lobby at 5:45 am for our next flight to Pisa. Fortunately unfortunately our new friends (friends of mine and Corey's Camp Lokanda friend Lindsey Kraus, also on our program) were headed back to the bar they were at before we went to Ice so we tagged along.
This right here is ZooBar. To tap into my British lingo once more, we lit-rah-ley went from an Ice to a Zoo. This was one of those classic European discotech clubs you always hear about where the multi-colored lights are flashing and the beats are playing and the sweaty 20 somethings are packed onto one dance floor like Crayolas in a box. Towson- you know this was nothing new to us but Britt and Krum (happy bitches? I bolded your name) you know better than anyone that in "situations" like these finding your spot is crucial to night-time enjoyment. Of course at first by myself, then later followed by my friends I claimed territory on the small stage that was railed in like a toddlers bed. There were a few kids on there most came and went but there were two who we will remember forever. First the Indian (and i don't mean Native American) who was way too jumpy. Think Kevin Gnapor (the G's silent when I sneak in your door) mathlete from Mean Girls but the skinny jeans, white belt, thick rimmed glasses, eminem cap, equally as faggy, possibly British technohead version. This boy eventually jumped around so much that he shoulder planted at our feet so hard I thought he cracked the stage (three days later I'm still crying from laughing so hard thinking about it). He actually went down so hard that I found his silver watch on the broken with one link attached to the other side of the clasp). DUMB IDIOT. The other boy I cannot even describe his looks but he was rolling so hard that his friends left without him cause he was too busy dancing with himself in the mirror and giving us high five after high five. If you don't know what rolling is please don't try to find out, thank you. The first time we tried to leave "I'm in Miami Bitch" (house version) came on and you guys know what that beat does to me so we of course had to stay but half way through Sandstorm it was just enough and time to leave.
Twenty minutes later we were snug as a bug in a rug (well twin size bed) with our alarms set for a mere 2 hours and 15 minutes later when we would wake up and once again shlep our stuff to the airport. One roommate in particular was quite the Vom-monster and couldn't even enjoy a delicious croissant and scrambled egg breakfast at a cutie-patootie airport restaurant called Giraffe. Planes were boarded and it was Italian from there on out.
Oh... we will
