Stourport-on-Severn Part 1

After a mostly restless night in the hotel with hilariously jet-lagged slumber we set off for Stourport-on-Severn. This is an area just southwest of Birmingham which is a short walk,train,train,train,walk,car ride away. In order to get here we walked about a mile to the nearest rail station. This was not the Underground, but part of the national railway service operating in the London suburbs. We took that to the underground, then the underground to London Euston station, then the national rail service to Birmingham New St. The whole ordeal didn't take that long, but it felt like a lot of effort and a lot of money to get to Birmingham. After that, we got a bit lost and couldn't get ahold of Nasim's aunt and cousin who were picking us up.

Another short drive and we had arrived. On the way we learned that Sunday night is the night to go out in Bewdley. Apparently Saturday night is only a suitable night to go out for the townies. Strangely enough, Monday night is also a night to go out. After going over an absurd amount of minor cultural differences and regional accents we arrived and had a bite to eat. I was hanging with Nasim's cousins who are 18 and 20 respectively, but are quite well known around Bewdley as it is a very small town. We showed up for SND (Sunday Night Drinks) at one bar and I found yet another wonderful selection of cask ales and asked the bar tender which was his favorite, to which he replied, "I don't know, I hate all ales." I felt punched in the gut a little. So I simply said, "give me this one, and went on my way." In the meantime I met another of the locals who told me he is heading to Columbus, Ohio. I asked him why he'd ever go there, and he told me for a job interview. Good Luck mate!

We decided to hit up another pub where there was pool. It was like miniature pool. The pool balls to so small, the bounced off the table half the time, so it made for some hilarious and awkward shots. After a few minutes (read, an hour or two), Karaoke started up! I haven't sung karaoke in a while, but at some point was told that I was required to sing. I asked if they had any Tommy Tutone, thinking it was a 50% chance that I'd be able to get out of it. Sadly, no. Within a matter of seconds the KJ had queued it up and I was handed a mic. Luckily for me, it's one of the few songs I actually know all the way through. I remembered something that my best friend had taught me at a house party several years back. When playing rock band or singing karaoke, YOU are the entertainment for that song. I had noticed some pretty good singers, so I decided I was going to be the entertainment instead of the words scrolling across the screen. So I did some crazy dancing (read, terribly bad dancing), air guitar solo, etc... Apparently I made a lot of friends last night! When I got set to leave, the bloke behind me insisted that I stay for another song. I noticed that all the singers were pretty good, but no one took it upon him/herself to dance. I don't quite understand why those willingly choose to participate in karaoke are unwilling to make themselves look like complete asses. Anyway, because of my apparent willingness to be publicly humiliated, I spared myself any criticism and made a few friends. Sadly though, when you make friends in Bewdley you are not immediately offered pints by new "friends." Last call, for alcohol, when left with a terrible ringing in our ears and I was stupid with exhaustion (having only slept 8 total hours in two nights). I crashed out and awoke with no glory, but no additional shame. All in all, a very successful first day in a little country town in England.