Y’know our raison d’etre is more a raison de ne pas etre.
The thing that has made us to drop everything and run away backpacking is the desire to not be bored or boring. Because we were. Whenever friends and family would ask us what we had been up to lately, we’d kinda just shrug our shoulders, kick our feet and stare off into the middle distance until they stopped asking such pesky questions. And that really kills the conversation.
This lead us to becoming more insular and more inward until we reach a point where me and Pete would sit in our local pub, look at each other over our half drunk pints and not have a thing to say. And believe me, we’re chatty buggers. It was that bad.
We ended up doing this one day just before Christmas last year. Pete’s working nights and its knocking him for six and I was dealing with stressed out Christmas shoppers at my job. So there we are, knackered, pints steadily warming on the table between us and we’re just existing. Our eyes met and we simultaneously said some various of ‘I’m not doing another effing year of this’.
Then and there we decided to just do it. To run away. We downed our pints, got in a fresh round and set to imagining a feasible way to do it. I mean, we didn’t just get in one fresh round. No. This was a job for a butt-load of liquid courage. As we slur away, I’m getting more and more grandiose in our schemes, America, China, the moon, Pete trying to keep me to this planet, let alone this continent. And I’m sure the next table over was rolling their eyes, ‘typical drunk talk’, ‘never gonna happen’, their looks said to each other.
Well Pooh to them! It is happening (maybe not the moon).
Drunk Talk: 1 Boringness: 0