Glasgow Do-Over

We had another bank holiday weekend so Flatmate Suzie and I took on Glasgow Scotland. Glasgow is still standing. FS has a friend who lives there, so we went to visit her, a wee small lass named Audrey, now christened Wee Audrey. Wee because she’s tiny, not because she pees a lot. Just to set the record straight. (hi Audrey!)

Anyway, we flew over on what we in Wyoming refer to as a Puddle Jumper. It’s a small plane that seats 19 or 21 people with a curtain to separate the cockpit from the rest of the plane. I hate these planes. I’m a nervous flier anyway but these tin cans send me into overdrive. The only saving grace was not having to fly over the Rocky Mountains, as I do when going home for Christmas to see the parents. Shudder… It wasn’t a bad flight really; 45 minutes, full tea service, interesting travel magazine. Did you know you can get a free behind the scenes tour of many international airports? One in Germany culminates at the base of the landing strip so you can feel and hear the planes land and take off. But back to Scotland. The airport is a crappy building, but they make up for it in amenities: fresh flowers in the ladies room, internet Starbucks with patio seating, direct exiting for arriving passengers. One stupid observations: the toilets are labelled with the universal symbols for male/female/HC only. No Text of any kind on the door. So in a country where men routinely wear kilts… well.

We shopped and walked around the downtown area, which oddly enough reminded me of downtown LA and reminded FS of downtown Miami. So to sum up: City Centre Glasgow is Anytown, USA. Except in red sandstone. Beautiful old buildings, most of which are standing empty. It was odd. But the shopping was plentiful even though we have EXACTLY the same stores in Dublin. I went prepared to spend big, hearing what a shoppers paradise Glasgow is, how much cheaper it is than Dublin, etc… and I bought sunglasses. (again! I guess that’s my Scottish thing; I come here and buy sunglasses.) But I got to have tapas!!! Oh how I miss Café Madrid and my nights with Michelle. (hi Michelle!) I lived just round the corner from CM in Dallas and we’d meet up every Wednesday after work and have tapas, wine and girl time. I really miss that. Dublin doesn’t have that, so I dragged the girls kicking and screaming (not really) to dinner. After we ordered our 9 tapas plus olives and bread the waiter looked at us, shook his head and muttered “hope you girls are hungry” and then went to put in our order. Now notice what happened there? 3 girls order what he considers to be far too much food. And rather than warn us about impending diet doom, he places the order. Sigh… Lucky for him, we finished nearly every bit. Those Irish girls can eat! I admire women that can and do so with joy. The downside of course was that by the time we got home, we were all too tired to go out, so we did the only thing we could: we watched Pretty in Pink. Nothing like watching cheesy 80’s movies in PJ’s to round out a night. It would have been nice to hit some clubs, but we’d have turned around after an hour anyway, so early to bed to be ready for the next day.

Day Two dawned bright and warm. We didn’t do much the two of us. Wee Audrey had to work, so FS and I tried to find the West End for a good brunch. We missed it somehow and ended up at one of the many, many Willow Tearooms, which were designed by Charles Rene MacIntosh, architect of note. All I can say is my posture is abhorrent.

That night we prettied ourselves and hit the clubs. Glasgow is known for it’s music scene and I’ve been a fan for 7 or 8 years now. They’ve churned out an incredible number of bands in the past few years (Travis, Franz Ferdinand to name 2) We started the night at the Goat Pub. The music was really pretty good. And we didn’t know it was open mic night, so that says something about the standard of musician in the city. We moved from there after some truly disasterous beers and boy meeting (Suzie’s guy was checking out every other woman in the place, my boy kept checking his mobile and the TV for soccer scores) and we landed at Wee Aurdey’s favourite pub, the art deco lounge that has no name I am aware of. It was very cool. Loungy and hip with gilt cornices and pink lights. We had a drink, met the suits sitting next to me and then hooked up with her friends, a Frenchman and his British wife who were both very cool. Until. Our, no Their battle cry for the evening was “Don’t MESS with Texas”. They had all seen it on just about every conceivable thing in the airport when they visited and thought it was the state motto. I got to be the bearer of supreme joy and inform them it is, in fact, an anti-littering campaign. Wait, that’s when it became the battle cry. We spilled out of Pink Deco Lounge into taxis and sped off into the night to “the best club in the world”. Frenchie explained to us that he’d clubbed all over the world (purely research, he’s a club manager) and awarded Optimo the much coveted crown. Septers are not awarded as they might be used as weapons. Smiting is not one of the powers granted with the title. (if I were a super hero, smiting would definitely be my super power) We queued up and were handed a numbered ticket (line jumping control) by a man who was wearing a UT shirt, which allowed me to show everyone the difference between ‘Gig Em Aggies’ and ‘Hook Em Horns’ hand signals. I explained it’s just like throwing gang signals in LA and that if they did it to the wrong person they’d be shot. (Alright, I didn’t, but it would have been funny because everyone believes all Americans, especially Texans, carry handguns) We finally got into the club and all I can say is this: hot, sweat, more sweat, 4 solid hours of music and some more sweat. It was amazing… I’ve never seen anything like it really. Every single person there just threw themselves onto the dance floor and went for it with wild abandon. I’ve never seen so many men dancing together before. Usually it’s the girls that dance together. We listened to 4 continual hours of mixes; Madonna, James Brown, AC/DC, Soft Cell, you name it, they mixed it. We ended the evening with a techno and traditional version of Duelling Banjos. It was actually pretty good. I might have been tired by then, so don’t hold me to it. I haven’t partied into the wee hours since Paris. Hee…

We met some interesting people, their photos will follow. I hope you enjoyed my re-do. I know I did.