Mahinda’s Little World

(continued from Part I)

Plink…plonk…plink…plonk…

19:00 - 20:00 (still on Eesti time)

The Plan. Right at the start, way back in late 2005, Paul had requested (I think) a superhero theme - for one night out, we all go around dressed as superheroes. Phil sounded people out, and the response was less than keen. I was up for it, Paul’s always had a thing for Batman, and that might have been about it.

So, a plan emerged to stitch Paul up. He’d be given the instructions that it was all going ahead, but everybody would have to keep their superhero identity secret until the big night. Ashley, who would have been sharing with Paul, was to borrow my hastily-put-together Batfink outfit (as used for Sarah’s birthday party two year ago…or was that the cartoon characters one?) so he could hoodwink the stag. Of course, Ashley dropped out so the job fell to me.

As we’d gone to our room earlier, Paul had told me what he thought, i.e. he was pretty convinced that no-one else had a costume. He’s suspicious by nature, that boy. Fortunately, I had the Batfink wings in my bag, so I feigned total ignorance and, showed him a bit of black cardboard, and said that I would be dressing up, as far as I knew.

So, back to the correct time period. Got back after football (after getting a little lost atop the hill of Toompea) to find a Paul who basically said that Myles had no costume (Paul had accompanied Mylo in a cab and back to his and Mike’s room, remember) and neither did Mike. Ah. I repeated the line about me not knowing anything about it all, and txted Phil while Paul had a shower. We decided that it was all still worth trying.

Went into the bathroom for my shower. Halfway through, I heard voices outside. Mike had admitted the plan to Paul. Well, it’s probably more a case of Paul becoming totally convinced. It was a fair cop, guv’nor.

Still, Paul was well up for a bit of BatAction, and agreed to wear the suit out for dinner, before changing out of it for the subsequent carnage. Given that it was a one-piece and therefore almost impossible to get out of quickly, that was probably a good move - bladder control is all fine and good, but we’re only human!

We were due to meet in the hotel foyer for 19:45. The clock was plink-plonking towards 20:00…

20:00 - 21:00

Get together in hotel foyer. Full Batman outfit garnered much amusement. BTW, it’s classic Batman, in the true Adam West style. None of this dark new Batman rubbish! The suit had cost Paul £45 or so, and it was great - complete with padded 6-pack and superhero pecs!

Here we embarked on one of the highlights of the trip - walking all the way out through Old Town, including the lively Raekoja Plats, and then out through the old city gates towards the ultra-modern Hotel Viru and the Amarillo Mexican restaurant at its foot.

People were staring, laughing, commenting, taking photos, humming the Batman theme (or the Superman theme in a few cases). The general reception was a good one - especially from younger folk. There were some serious comedy double-takes! My favourite was the teenager (probably 17 or 18) who exclaimed "Hey dude, fresh gear!"

We crossed one of Tallinn’s main streets at a busy crossing, which was pure comedy, and waited on the other side for some laggers/cripples. As we were waiting, a girl in pink started crossing the road…and got stranded in the middle, between lanes of traffic! Holy traffic control, Batman!

Needless to say, we started singing the Batman theme and tried to push Paul out to save her. Which he did, eventually, running across when there was a gap in the traffic. The girl took one look at him and, looking generally terrified, scarpered across to safety…from both the traffic and the nutter in Spandex.

Anyway, we eventually got to Amarillo, where we were greeted with a wood-carved area full of sub-rooms…and the usual stunning waitresses. Have I mentioned the sheer beauty of the Estonian women? Probably. Are they worth a second mention? Definitely

We were ushered to a long table right at the back of the restaurant and presented with menus. Beer all round, follows by chips-’n'-dips and some chicken wings as starters. Paul/Batman was, completely unrexpectedly, presented with a large shooter…which the waitress would only describe as an "Adios Motherf*cker". This term, of course, was carried forward throughout the weekend.

We ordered, and that’s probably the end of that hour.

21:00 - 22:00

I’m using txt msgs wot I received to help me work out the timings for the weekend. My phone shows that I received one from Pete* at 21:26…so bang on, then!

* Kindly telling me the result of my Battrick qualifier - I won! Up to Div III for me now

Our food arrived. And very nice it was too. I’d ordered a large whiskey steak, medium rare:

38. Amarillo Whiskey Steak … 168eek (~10.70€) / 198eek (~12.70€)
150g/250g of fillet of beef brushed with Jack Daniel’s cola oil, jalapeno butter, marinated red onions, red wine sauce and grilled corncob. Served with French fries.

It was absolutely spot on. A lovely bit of beef, just bloody enough, as tender as they come. The others report foody goodness, too. Recommended!

All through our time at Amarillo, the waitress was instructed to keep Paul’s shots coming. And they did.

I also had my first dark beer of the trip (well, not counting the deliciously deep brown honey ale at Olde Hansa) - as with much of continental/Eastern Europe, tasty dark lagers were available to anyone who looked.

22:00 - 23:00

It was at roughly this point that Paul started to feel the main disadvantage of the Batsuit…the fact that it was a one-piece outfit…and he’d been drinking beer.

So, as agreed, I was to walk him back to the hotel, where he’d change before we headed back out to join the others. At Nimeta Baar, it was agreed.

Back across into Old Town we went, having left 300EEK for the bill (which turned out to be more-or-less correct). The streets were now full of a slightly older crowd, out for drinks rather than returning from tourism or shopping. We went down a quieter route to the hotel, Batman visibly needing to relieve himself. Holy urinal, Batman!

In room. Batman urinated, with audible relief, then changed into his regular Bruce Wayne clobber. I took the opportunity to lie down for a few minutes. And then we headed back out.

Plink…plonk…plink…plonk…

We walked back towards Nimeta Baar. A street corner or two before we got there, however, we encountered some very pretty young Estonian girls, most of whom were clad in the strange flat caps favoured by the 2006 flavour of fashion victim. And other clothes, of course. They were out on a hen night, it seemed, with the bride holding a big placard saying, basically, kisses for cash. The plan was to charge blokes and put all the money towards a nice big wedding gift - what a plan! So, I think Paul paid something like 100EEK (£5; or was it 200EEK?) for the privilege, and got a bit of a smooch with all six (or so) girls. Definitely good value

If only the others had been there to see it.

23:00 - 00:00

We walk into Nimeta Baar (translation: "The Bar with no Name") and Paul found a group of Watford fans sitting around. We chatted with them for a while, one of them proving to be an accountant at the same firm as Phil - a worryingly large proportion of our group, including both Paul and Phil, had lapsed into the dark arts of accountancy. Falls nicely into the HABS schoolboy stereotype, to be honest. Phil reckons he’s had more to do with said Watford accountant now than ever before - coincidence, or some shady secret handshake thing?

We spot the others, and crowd into some chairs/tables. Paul regales all and sundry with tales of kisses, neglecting to highlight the fact that he had to pay for them. We all proceeded to drink stuff, mainly dodgy-looking colourful cocktails, which were shared out by the pitcher. Mostly blue, IIRC.

Being a real man, I stuck to beer, and the dark variety at that. Even though the barman tried to serve me Guinness rather than the tasty local dark lager.

Nimeta Baar was a generally hip and happening joint - last time I visited, it was a bit more pubby in character. Now, the place was set up by a bunch of Scots who stayed over after a Euro 199? qualifier (or was it for the World Cup? Not sure), and used to feature loads and loads of European flags…with the notable exception of St. George’s Cross. There were far fewer flags now, and even homage to the English rugby team!

What can I say? The girls were pretty, and the beer flowed easily.

00:00 - 01:00

The evening continued along merrily. Note that this was meant to be a fairly low-key night, in preparation for a monster stag Saturday. More about that later!

While at the bar (going for yet another dark beer), I got chatting with a cute little brunette, Sophie, who turned out to be from Harrow. She was on a trip with two mates, one of whom was called Emma, and was something like 21. Now, given that many of us went to school not a million miles from Harrow, it was an easy talking point.

Anyway, Paul then muscled right in. I suspect it’s the "I’m going to get locked away forever but I can still get the girls" reflex that seems to come out on these occasions, and he was going for it! Whenever anyone in the group got chatting to a girl, Paul was quick to home in.

A few of the others eventually sleazed over and got in on the act. They were pretty girls, admittedly.

01:00 - 02:00

The girls were going to move on to Club Hollywood, so we did what all red-blooded stag party males would do in that situation, i.e. tagged along. Ian, Steve and Phil decide to stay at Nimeta rather than chase youthful Harrovian skirt, and the rest of us leave.

We arrive at nearby Hollywood, to find that it’s a huge opera house style building with an equally huge queue outside. Bugger.

So we wait. And wait some more. We move forward a couple of feet, and just keep on waiting. Well, at least there was plenty of eye-candy in the queue.

I was starting to sober up. Never a good thing. So I was pretty glad when we decided to turn tail and return to Nimeta.

As a side note, reading some reviews, it’s a pity we didn’t bother with Hollywood in the end. Or at least get there a bit earlier.

I can’t remember whether or not the girls returned with us, but I don’t think so.

We walk into Nimeta (with its refreshing lack of queue, entrance money or indeed door policy), to find the lads who’d stayed sitting with three cute blondes. One of them was dancing, gyrating away but a foot or two from Ian’s face. He wasn’t quite rubbing his thighs and sneering like Paul Whitehouse, but it was pretty damn close. Lucky beggar. 

It later transpired that she’d tried to get Ian to go up for a dance, and gotten rather keen, but he basically wasn’t up for it. He’s married and wasn’t going to play away from home. Good lad.

I got chatting to the other two blondes, but honestly cannot remember anything about them. Pity. Actually, I do remember something about them being on a "we hate men" night out…so, of course, they came to a bar full of tourists and spent their time in the company of…well…men. Female logic, obviously.

02:00 - 03:00

People start drifting off back to the hotel. I get my last tasty dark beer of the night.

Lawrence has spent some time dancing with this rather cute blonde girl, who claimed to be 19 I think. Hmmm.

Iri was "dancing" (this is Iri, after all) with an increasingly bemused looking blonde. Think Wilko and a couple of the others were there too, so I joined them. I got talking to the girl, to find that her name was Jenita and she was from Tampere, Finland. I pulled the masterstroke of asking whether that was the place with the huge castle…which it was. Finns aren’t used to Brits knowing anything about their country.

*salacious details removed on request*

I left Jenita alone in the company of Iri - drunken stag do logic figured that, well, he was giving it a good try.

03:00 - 04:00

There aren’t many of us left now…or indeed all that many people left at Nimeta. Iri’s left, so I go over and dance with Jenita - we’re getting on quite well, I reckon. It turns out that she’s a sports journalist who knows nothing about football. She’s there with a friend, Piiya (I have no idea how to spell that), who lives near Tallinn for some reason. Although it can’t have been that near, as they were sharing a hotel room.

Things are definitely going well. Piiya has disappeared a while back to some recess at the back of the bar, in the company of a chavvy Estonian bloke. I’m on the dance floor with Jenita.

Then Paul meanders over, on his way home with Mike, Little Paul and Mylo I think. Again, that "stag about to lose all freedom" reflex kicks in and he heads straight for Jenita. And talks. And talks some more.

Little Paul and Mylo go home. Jenita and I are exchanging "why won’t he just leave?" glances. I’m pleading with Mike to just get Paul home.

Paul is dancing like a loon. Mike, Jenita and I are getting a little exasperated. I’d noticed a board proclaiming closing time at 4am, and was starting to think that it wouldn’t be my night after all…

[cut-shot of me glaring at my watch]
[second cut-shot of Paul dancing away]
Plink…plonk…plink…plonk…

04:00 - 05:00

4am arrives, and they stop serving at the bar. There’s no sign of the house lights coming on, however, and the music still plays.

"Jump Around" by House of Pain comes on. An absolute classic from our school days. Paul, of course, knows all the words, and boasts of this to Jenita before making some shapes in true faux-rapper stylee.
 
Jenita’s thoughts? "I can’t understand what your friend is saying. What does he mean?"

I’m starting to think that the bar will close any minute now, and am close to actually praying for Paul to stop. Inadvertently, he’d become something of a chaperonal Duracell bunny. He asks Jenita whether she prefers Mike or himself, refusing to give in until she proclaims Paul to be the more attractive.

Mike finally removes Paul at about 4.40am, possibly even later. He pretty much dragged Paul away by the belt buckle.

As soon as they were out of the door, Jenita and I headed straight for each other. Which was nice. Very nice indeed. Piiya and Estonian Chav turned up, too.

05:00 - 06:00

5am and the lights come on. The music stops as well, so Jenita and I head to the street outside. Nothing much gets said. We kiss, she standing on the kerb. We were the same height that way.

Now, I must confess to having entirely forgotten the girl’s name at this point. Not a good state of affairs. So I asked her how to spell it, which I reckon represents an unusual amount of cunning! "J-E-N-I-T-A" she replies, and asks me the same. Jenita - if you’re reading this (let’s face it, it’s not exactly hard to Google), I’m sorry!

Piiya comes out, sans chav, and seems very anxious to leave. Their hotel is out of Old Town.

We say our goodbyes, kiss once more, and go in our separate directions. I walk back to our hostel, kicking myself for not exchanging email addresses and realising that I’m never going to see Jenita again.

I checked my phone, to find txts from Pete and Mia, and replied to them thus:

I’ve just pulled a gorgeous Finnish girl called Jenita, and I’m never going to see her again

In fact, it must have been later than I thought - according to my phone, that was at 5.42am. Maybe the lights at Nimeta Baar came on later than I thought?

Back to the hotel, down to mine and Paul’s dingy dungeon room, and straight to bed. I only get a few minutes thinking about Jenita (and my folly) before sleep sets in.

 

Okay, so that’s actually 25 hours (3am-4am UK time), but the extra hour was an important one!