***
Night One: The Women at the Pub
***
"Dude," Miles as he pats me on the arm with a closed fist. "We're in Europe."
I look at him and give him a weak smile, we had just spent the last ten hours on a plane together, and strangely enough when we go on the plan it was the morning and now it's after sunset.
"Actually you're in the England," the cab driver says with a thick accent. "We're a far cry from those twats across the channel."
Miles smiles at me and pumps his fist at this. Miles has always been like this, much more gregarious than me and always happy about any novelty that comes his way. The fact that we're sitting the taxi of some xenophobic cab driver, while usually would make a lot of our classmates in Columbus, Ohio shake with anger, just makes him excited.
"Sorry sir," Miles says.
How he has this much energy I'll never understand, but I do have to admit, despite my incredibly tired state it is a marvel to see the city of London with my own eyes for the first time. "You must pick up a lot of guys like us," I say to the cabbie.
He looks back at us through the rear-view. "Oh yeah, I pick up all sorts," he says, clearly he thought I was referencing Miles' race, he's black.
"I meant Americans," I say.
"Yeah," the cabbie says. "And I told you I pick up all sorts on the airport beat, white guys," he gestures to me. "Black guys," he gestures to Miles. "I picked up a couple of Mexicans last night," he continues. "Interesting bunch them lot."
Meeting a bunch of new people and having brand new experiences like this has never been my thing, it was always Miles' lifestyle, never heard of something he didn't want to try. I was never supposed to go on this trip with him, and I'm lucky that there was one space on the tour bus left, because I'm not sure what I would have done.
My girlfriend and I were supposed to move to New York together, but the day before we moved she broke up with me, and it left me with no actual plan for my life. I had the same girlfriend all through high-school, we did everything together, I felt like if Miles didn't get me onto this trip I probably would have just stayed home for six months and ate junk food.
"Alright lads," the cabbie says as he pulls up to the hotel we'd booked. "This is it," he says.
"Cheers mate," Miles says in his best English accent as he taps his card on the machine.
We both climb out of the cab and make our way into the hotel lobby. "What a weird place," Miles says as he takes a moment to watch the way the cars drive on the opposite side of the street to us back home.
"The booking is under Miles," Miles says as he talks to the woman at the front desk of the hotel. "But I'm here with my friend Peter, so it's gonna be two beds."
The woman looks at her screen, clearly confused. "Um.. there's no booking under the name Miles," she says.
"Oh right, yeah Miles Johnson," he says. "Check under Johnson."
She shakes her head. "Nothing..." she says as she types away and notices something. "There is a booking here but it's for next year."
Miles looks shocked and I turn to him. "Did you really book it for the wrong year?" I ask.
Miles takes out his phone and goes through his emails. "Um... shit... yeah it looks like I booked this hotel for next year," he says as he continues to scroll. "But don't worry, everything else is right, the bus tour, the rail passes..." He looks up at the woman. "Any chance you have a room available?"
She shakes her head. "There's a hostel just down the road next to the pub," she explains. "That might be your best bet."
Miles looks uncharacteristically disheartened. "I'm sorry Peter," he says to me as he shrugs. "I fucked up."
I shake my head. "Miles," I say, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I don't care, you brought me all the way here, you think I'm gonna get mad at one little mistake?" I ask.
Miles grins. "I guess not," he says and looks at the woman. "Thanks," he says.
We both walk out of the hotel and make our way down the street. "She said the hostel was right next to a pub right?" I ask as we find a pub.
"Yeah," Miles says as he looks inside of the pub. "But what if we just get a drink first?" he says. "I've always wondered what it feels like to drink alcohol legally."
Because the drinking age in the United States is twenty-one and miles and I are eighteen years old, neither of us has ever actually say in a bar and had a drink, and even though I'm not a huge drinker I have to admit I am curious.
We walk into the pub with our backpacks strapped tight, anyone with a brain will see that we're tourists, but something tells me that Miles wants the attention. "Two pints," Miles says as he approaches the bar. "And is there anywhere we can put our bags?"
The bartender, a guy in his early twenties with a beard laughs. "Sure mate, just chuck them behind the bar, I'll look after them," he says as he pours to large pints of beer.
"What's a pint?" I ask Miles.
"It's a big glass of beer," he says.
We both place our packs behind the bar like the bartender suggested and take our drinks. "Here you go," Miles says as he places twenty bucks on the counter and then adds a five dollar tip.
"Thanks mate," the bartender says as we both lean against the bar, sipping the pints of beer.
"This is the life," Miles says as he looks around the place. "I have an idea," he says. "What if we don't go to the hostel?"
I look at him, sipping the foamy drink, it's tangy on my lips but I refuse to let anyone know I dislike the taste. "Just roam the streets for five nights?"
"What if every night we find somewhere new to stay," he says, his eyes are on something in the corner of the room that I haven't noticed yet.
"We're going to visit Daniel tomorrow right?" he says. "We can stay there tomorrow night."
"But what about all the other nights?" I ask.
"We should try to pick up," he says "Every night we stay at a different girls place."
I turn to him. "Do you actually think we can manage that?" I ask, I'm not the most confident with women, but Miles has fucked dozens.
"I see two cougars over there right now, they've been watching us since we walked in," Miles as he gestures to the other side of the room.
Two women are sitting at a booth, subtly trying to check us out, failing on the subtle part. "They could be older than our Mom's," I say.
"But still hot as hell," he says with a grin. "Plus, more experience."
Before I can say another word he's sprung off the counter and made his way over to the two women. He wastes no time talking to them, sitting down with them, making them laugh. He looks over at me and gestures for me to join, of course I do, I sit down at the table with one woman on either side of me. I look at Miles who's sitting across from me, admiring how he can carry the conversation.
"And so basically that's why we're trying to find a place to stay on short notice," Miles finishes.
The one to my left, tall, blonde and inside of a dress that she looks poured into, takes a sip from her glass of wine as she listens. "Yes," she says as she nods along, looking Miles up and down. "That does sound harrowing."
