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Spotting the Naughty Nomad
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Afghanistan
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Spotting the Naughty Nomad

This is an old blog post, I don't think I posted it here and thought that now that you know me it'll be funny for you to read it. Me and my wing were reading the NN blog and then met him and his crew accidentally without knowing that it was him:

THE night before my birthday we decided to get completely hammered.

We joined the hostel’s pub crawl and before we knew it we were both shitfaced. We ended up at shooters, Tallinn’s only real option on a weekday, and continued drinking heavily. We ordered five shots at a time, drinking with our fellow pub-crawlers, and hitting on every single girl around. We burned ourselves badly but we didn’t really give a shit, as it was a “boys-night-out”, girls or no girls, we planned on having a great time.

At some point in the night we noticed a group of five friends as they entered the bar. They had an interesting vibe about them that I couldn’t really put my finger on, but something about them drew our attention. “What’s their story?, I asked Aaron. “I don’t know”, he replied “but they’re dressed like pirates and leprechauns”. One of them was wearing a huge sombrero and had a finely quaffed beard. He was quiet and appeared quite sober. On any other night we’d approach this group to learn their story, but we were completely in our own little private drunk world. Somehow, at some point, we safely made our way back to our hostel.

On the following day, my birthday, we drank again, as the b-day celebrations continued. This time the pub-crawl was a little more lively and we met two friendly English dudes, one of whom told me that he would become a father in a few months. Apparently, I was the first person outside the family he’s told this too, and I’m not really sure why he chose to bestow me with this information. I congratulated him and bought the four of us a round of drinks. “Poor guy”, I thought to myself, “if I were going to become a father in a few months, I’d shoot myself in the head”.

We were in a strange bar… apparently it’s part of a hostel, and almost everybody around was dressed as a zombie. There were a few other people in costume and I regret not having brought the masks we bought in Stockholm a few days earlier. I would have fit nicely into the crowd with my Zoro outfit (Side note: walking around the streets of Stockholm wearing a Zoro mask and asking people for directions “to the nearest bank” = not a good idea) Aaron then tapped me on the shoulder, “hey look, the pirates and leprechauns are here”.

We left the zombie infested hostel and headed to a karaoke bar, the next stop on the pubcrawl. On the way there we mostly spoke with our “soon to become a father” friend and his travel buddy, but also exchanged a few words with one of the pirates. Apparently, he’d recently been to Syria. WTF… Syria? Are these guys nuts? We chatted a little more but I was too wasted to get to the bottom of things. We arrived at the karaoke bar were Aaron and I decided to really stick our necks out and sing Bohemian Rhapsody. It went down badly but we didn’t really care and the crowd seemed to be pleased, so much so, that the following week, in far away Riga, a girl approached us in the hostel and told us that she remembered our performance.

We don’t have much patience for bad singing, other than our own, so we broke away from the pub crawl and headed to shooters again. We were totally shitfaced, but were delighted to be merrily enjoying a birthday week and ordered 10 shots. We danced with chicks and mingled. Sometime later the pub-crawl caught up with us. I clawed some girl, grabbed her by the waist, and went for an instant make-out. She shoved me away and left. “Hey! it’s my birthday!” I yelled at her, as if that would have changed her mind. I continued to aggressively pursue the handful of chicks that night, but nothing really hooked.

Exhausted and content, the night was coming to an end. The sombrero wearing pirate came over to us. I don’t remember exactly what it was that he said, but I think it was some sort of off hand remark about our game: “try again”, “nice try”, “it would never work”, something along those lines. I looked at him in disbelief, thinking that I hadn’t heard him correctly. Was the pirate criticizing our game? Was this guy some sort of a player? Should we’ve been battling him and his crew in some sort of a players showdown? I told myself that these guys must be some kind of costumed dudes on a stag party and I shouldn’t ruin their night. We had better head back home.

We woke up the following day with major hangovers, hardly remembering how we made it back to the hostel. We dragged ourselves out of our bunk beds and off to the main square in search of some pizza. One thing was certain: we would not be doing any drinking that night.

We arrived at some local version of a Trattoria, ordered some dough at the bar and nose dived into our laptops. Moments later, Aaron looked up at me and said “I’m reading the Naughty Nomad‘s blog, listen to this:”

“I’ll keep it short and sweet. I’m having too much fun at the moment and haven’t had a chance to post. I’m traveling with a crew of three pirates and two leprechauns (I’m dressed like the former of course). I’ve just spent two nights in Oslo and last night in Riga. I’m going to Tallinn tonight. “

Silence. What the fuck just happened here? We kept looking at each other in shock, refusing to believe that such a coincidence could actually happen. We’ve been following the Naughty Nomad for several months, since we started this European trip of ours. Last time Aaron read his blog was perhaps a month ago. He had just checked the blog on this day for no particular reason. This can’t be real. Someone is fucking with us.

We read that post over and over again. Three pirates. Two leprechauns. The post was made in Latvia and ended with “Bring on Estonia.” It was posted on April 8th. My birthday, yesterday, was on the 10th. It was them – for sure. Somehow our two groups had unknowingly converged on each other in the same place and at the same time.

For the next half-an-hour we didn’t really say anything. We ate our pizzas in silence and later discussed what we’d do if we met up with them again at night. But we never did as they’d left that morning. Too bad… the seven of us raiding some venue that weekend – two pirates, three Leprechauns, a Zoro, and a Ninja – it would have been epic.

As we left the pizza place and started walking back towards home base Aaron turned to me and said:

“You know…. it would be nice if we wrote our own blog.”

“Yea… that would be nice. What should we call it?”

“Something about the van… The Van of Victory?”

And the rest – is history.

01-05-2013, 03:41 PM
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