It’s 6am. My eyes are closed and earplugs tightly fixed. I’m trying my hardest to forget the last few hours, when all of a sudden, a potent scent of fish floods my nostrils.
I adjust my eyes and in front of me stands Cheddar. His teeth beam in the dark, as he smiles, waving his ‘used’ fingers in my face.
As I push him away and turn to the side, I can see my brother Tom laying next to me in our queen-sized bed, locked in the arms of a rather large Scottish lass – I was scared for him.
It was our first night in the Scots capital, and one we won’t be forgetting anytime soon (despite my attempts).
It took six hours and fifty minutes to drive from Essex to Edinburgh. Six hours and thirty minutes to get back home. That’s two tanks of fuel, three KFC’s, one Burger King, 4 Irn Bru’s and strawberry milkshake from McDonalds.
The studio room was small, but clean and the car park cost £12 a day.
Despite having quite recently tucked into our second BK of the day, we were starving so as soon as we arrived, we got a taxi (Uber) to Tripadvisor favourite, Bubba Q.
It’s the best barbecue restaurant in the city, priced well too. I opted for the gigantic Pitmaster Platter (£25) – the meatiest meal on the menu – which was packed with pulled pork, beef brisket, baby back ribs, spicy sausages and half a chicken. The meat was as good as its ratings.
After eating everything on the plate (and more) it was time to freshen up and hit Old Town.
Our first stop The Three Sisters bar, where we necked a few shots ahead of meeting up with The Edinburgh Pub Crawl organisers at Cafe Voltaire.
The Edinburgh Pub Crawl: For £7, you’ll be taken to several of the best bars in Edinburgh, given a welcome shot on arrival, discounted booze and the chance to mingle with people all looking for the same thing as you… Fun!
Fortunately, our group was ram packed with women. A bus full of Boston students, a couple of Aussies and two Romanian chicks – who enjoyed talking about the blood sucking legend, Dracula. They like to bite in Transylvania, apparently ;)
So after several shots, a few pubs, one strange rock club, a Brazilian bar and shit loads of whisky, it was time to say farewell to the group and head to Cav – a club many of Tommy’s Tinder matches had recommended.
After stamping my hand and ushering us inside, my age hit me like a ton of shit.
It was a student club, where the ages averaged between 18-22 – although I’m sure some minors had bypassed the security, despite the ‘double-proof ID check’.
For a few hours, I tried copying Tommy and Cheddar’s dance moves, but shortly reverted back to my stiff, two-step routine – which looked more like a boxing stance than a dance.
I was clearly too old here and should have stayed with the American lot back at the Frankenstein – a Gothic themed pub, set in an old church, minutes away from the castle in Old Street.
But, before I knew it, 3am was upon us and our night of ‘dancing’ had come to an end.
For a brief moment, having been the only lad NOT to have snogged anyone on the night, things were looking positive, as both Tommy and Cheddar failed to convert kisses, which cost them 10 points on the Lads Holiday Point System (pro game)… But that was all about to change.
Just as the Uber was pulling up – Cheddar had managed to convince three local birds to jump in the cab back to the apartment. One of the Scottish birds was fit. The other two could barely fit in the taxi – which is why Cheddar slipped Tommy a tenner to wing him.
After getting back to the room, I was quick to get in bed and watch the others drink wine, get more drunk and eventually settle into their resting positions.
Cheddar had tactfully taken over the sofa bed with the fit one, while the two larger ladies sandwiched me and Tommy in the middle of the bed.
Shortly after the lights were switched off, I could hear slurping and the occasional gag.
Yes, that’s my little brother getting his dick sucked by some wrongen, right next to me. FFS.
Weird? Whatever. I found this the perfect opportunity to fart under the covers. So after getting into position, I hit them with one of those explosive ones… The smell was meaty. We called it Bubba Q’s, barbecue methane. It stank like shit. The smell was almost as glorious as the sound.
I was proud. The girl next to me though, was pissed off. She slapped me, called me a dirty munter (filthy) and told me to f*** off, before departing the bed and settling for the hard chair.
What a result.
To my shock though, once Tommy’s monster had stopped laughing under the covers, she started back up again. What a trooper.
Meanwhile, over the other side of the room, Cheddar is pounding away under the covers like a little machine.
With much more room now on the bed, I decided to move as far away as Tom’s dick-sucking monster as possible, and grabbed my earplugs from the side.
It’s just gone 6am. For a few moments, I think I was able to doze off… until, Cheddar placed his stinking fingers in my face and greeted me with an accomplished smile.
I left the room and slept on the floor.
The next morning, after the girls did the walk of shame, it was time to explore some of Scotland. Well, Edinburgh.
If you’re into history, Old Town is for you. It’s made up of beautiful, medieval streets, decorated with old buildings and home to the Castle.
But if you’re anything like us, there’s plenty more to do than site seeing.
After a little kip and some Pro Plus, we were ready for round two.
It’s our last night, and there’s only one place to go on a Saturday apparently… Silk.
It’s a student nightclub, full of young hotties. Shortly after a cheeky snog with a saucy yank from Connecticut (-10 points), I’d decided to head back – it was almost 2am.
The boys continued to party until close (3am) while I opted for a cab back to the apartment, accompanied with five Chicken Selects and some cold chips.