The Stagnent Project (Part2)

First off I'm going to tie up the tale I started telling yesterday....

If we all remember our hero and my housemate James had just been kicked out of Franks Bar for trying to destroy a gate. In an act of defiance and becase I knew it would anger James I made sure to shake the bouncers hand and thank him for dealing with James as I left the bar. Yep I'm an awful friend.
So there we were standing in the street wondering what to do next. Ian mentioned that his girlfriend was in Havanas which is Norwich's premiere opium den style hell hole. It's the only real place open till 4am so by about 1 it is crammed with the filth left standing. It's got a scummy feeling to it from the moment you walk it. This probably caused by the fact you have to squeeze down a long white corridor with the fiery redness and ghoulish hubbub of the club the only thing in front of you. Once inside you immediately notice the large satin draped beds set up along one of the walls. I've seen many things on these bed once there was a tramp having a quiet doze, another time there was what I can only describe as an orgy, which is kind of awkward when you're just trying to get upstairs for a cig. There are regularly people getting handjobs or whatever on them, the whole corner reeks of spunk and misery. You have to be in certain disposition to go to Havanas, if you're with a lot of friends, feel the need to drink until dawn and are ready for the potential of sketchy arseholes giving you grief every few minutes then it's for you.
Fortunately as we walked up the street to the entrance the queue was monolithic so I was spared another evening of horror in Havanas. We rounded up Ian girlfriend, sang Sam Russo songs to the queue and decided to go back to mine and finish the bottle of whiskey James had. Of course as the others got in the taxi I still had my bike locked up at the Wildman meaning I had to cycle home, confused and drunk.
I've lived in Norwich for about three or four years, I know the city well, somehow though I managed to get completely lost and even forgot where it was going. To the point that I ended up just doing circles around the road and spinning my head like an over active meerkat wondering what the hell was going on. Eventually I figured it out and made it home.
Once home me and James were in an excitable mood, we whipped on the stereo and started running around my lounge because we wish we were still sixteen. It was at this point sofa crowd surfing began. There is nothing I can say I'm proud of about this. Three men taking it in turns to catch each other and run around isn't exactly the elegant thing you will ever see. Of course something was going to get broken as our mothers had always warned us...as I jumped off the sofa arm towards the TV I smashed into the floor sending the xbox crashing from its perch and landing with a harrowing crack. I haven't tried to turn it on since but I think it might well have had its day. From this obvious highpoint me and James decided to run down the street singing The Hold Steady at 4am because we're pieces of shit. After that James vomited a lot and I went to bed.
Oh the glory.