My week in Ireland was followed by a week in Scotland. I had a great time, even though I was told to fuck off three times.
The first time, we were at this tiny restaurant/pub. I was in the seat with easiest access to the bar so it was my job to get our drinks all night. Every time I went to the bar this old man would just stand there staring at me with his mouth open. Finally, on what ended up being my last trip to the bar, he managed to bark slash spit a few words at me in a drunken Scottish accent, "Yer beautiful!" I said thank you and went about ordering my drinks. He continued to stare at me, open mouthed. Then he slowly started leaning toward me. I looked at him and saw that he still had his mouth open, so I bowed my head quickly and his kiss hit me in the forehead. I grabbed my drinks and as I started to walk away he shouted slash slurred, "Fuck off!"
The third time (I'm saving the second time for last because it's the best of the three), we were in an after hours club with some friends we had made. I was at the very crowded bar waiting to order some drinks when the guy next to me started chatting me up. He put his hand on my ass and offered to buy me a drink. I let him keep his hand on my ass and I let him buy me a drink. When our drinks arrived he said, "Don't you think I should get a kiss now?" I replied, "I think the fact that you've had your hand on my ass the entire time we've been standing here is payment enough. Thanks for the drink." He told me to fuck off, so I did. Fuck off means walk away, right?
The second time, we were in a cute little pub with phrases painted all over the ceiling. (My favorite one said Eatin' Ain't Cheatin'. I mean, I suppose that could be true in certain circles.) One of my turns at the bar this guy walked up and said, "You want a drink?" I told him that, yes, I was getting a drink. He said, "No, I'll buy you a drink." I thanked him and the bartender started making my drink. I was drinking double absolute blackberry with sprite and as she started pouring in the second shot the guy goes, "Whoa, whoa!" The bartender said, "You offered to buy her a drink, this is what she's drinking." I thought it was an awesome response, but apparently the guy didn't because when I thanked him for the drink he told me to fuck off.
I went back to my table and as I was telling my gay the story, the guy walked up to me and asked me where I was from. I said I was from California. He said sarcastically, "You mean Mexico?" I can see where there might be some confusion there, but still. I said, "No, California. California is in the United States and Mexico is in...Mexico." This time he got a little patronizing and said, "The United States of America..." and as he spit the word America at me, something fell out of his mouth and into my lap. I shrieked and brushed whatever it was onto the floor. He picked it up and took off. I turned to my gay with a look of horrified confusion and said, "What was that?!" This is the best part. He looked at me and through unstoppable laughter said, "It was his teeth!" This guy's two front teeth feel out of his mouth and into my lap!
He actually had the balls to approach me again. He sat down and asked me, "Why do Americans have such good teeth?" I told him because we go to the dentist every six months. He said, "Doesn't that get kind of annoying?" I said, "No, because then we have good oral hygiene." And our teeth don't fall out into people's laps.
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