Two Days in Albuquerque

It was one hell of a hangover

Alex bares his ass during an evening of total debauchery.
Alex bares his ass during an evening of total debauchery.

So what happens when a bunch of Brits heads into Albuquerque (a town that is near impossible to spell, by the way) for two nights?

Well, there’s only one word that fits the bill—messy. You guys can party, and some have a weakness for the British accent, for which we apologise. As I said, we were only here for two days so we couldn’t experience the whole thing with great ease, but our guide (the wonderful Jessica, who had us thrust upon her by a friend of a friend) got us out and about. First of all we were taken to a pool hall—a game that three of us can play well and I am terminally bad at. BUT the measures of vodka are so generous we all thought we were pool gods by the end of the night.

That is a snake. The filthy, slutty turtles whoring around in their pen were infinitely more amusing.
That is a snake. The filthy, slutty turtles whoring around in their pen were infinitely more amusing.

While at the bar I was accosted by a lovely lady who firstly couldn’t tell whether I was Australian or British—hint: Australians end every sentence as though it was a question, and can seem rude on first meeting—and asked what I was doing in Albuquerque. Truth is, we’re driving Route 66, so it’s a necessary stop, but there’s more here than in Texola. Look up Texola, it’s pretty empty. Even after I’d told her why I was there she said something that would become all too familiar: “Get out, just leave and find somewhere more interesting.” I’m not sure, it may be the boredom of everyday life and routine, but you guys have a great city.

So the nighttime was messy (I can’t remember much more), but during our second day we headed to Old Town. It’s a bit of a tourist trap, who cares? We saw a gun show, some rattle snakes AND two tortoises having sex!

I like it here, and it’s a shame to leave (for Santa Monica, poor me). But next time someone new comes into town don’t tell them to run away. Tell them that vodka makes you a pool god.