On Saturday we ended up at the Highlander Pub, apparently the only place in the city to get good haggis, as a belated birthday celebration for Aaron. We convinced the manager, a black man in a kilt with a brow bar, to give us three tables. We took part in the homeland toast, in which the waitresses hand out free shots of scotch every day at nine and everyone drinks to the ring of a bell.
Trolley, Nick, and Aaron participated in some speed drinking competitions. None of us are heavy drinkers; rather, we’re on the heavy side of casual drinkers, so being able to down a mug as quickly as this was worthy of a OMGDIDYOUSEETHATWHERESMYPROPS?!?