The Ordeal: Part 2

Part 2: The Temple of Gates-

With drunken thought processes and the hilarity of the night still drifting in the air; Myself, Norway and Mack’um entered Cathedral Campus. This is a student based residency next to the brilliant Anglican Cathedral. It was a sure fire short cut across to the car. We entered and walked down through the Cathedral campus, a route often used by Mack’um as to avoid extortionate charges parking in town yet being close enough as to not have to pack some hiking boots. We wandered through discussing life’s questions in the way that you do when you’re intoxicated.

After a good ten minute walk in the downpour we reached the bottom of the campus. The holy grail, the car was sneaking into vision, hidden just behind the fence. Creeping forever forward, it was pointed out that the gate was shut.

Surely not an issue; there must be a way out of this place onto the main road behind. Think again...

 The place was like Alcatraz. It was easier to escape from Colditz and that took 15 episodes! We considered, again in a drunken stupor, sending Mack’um through a gap which I could only just get my foot through, scaling the fence in some form of spider man inspired climb, there was even a mention of attempting to break out. I am not a muscular male and breaking down a locked, metal gate is far out of my reach. We decided to cut back and attempt another route. Waving the car through the fence, that ever evasive car goodbye, we set off down a new route. As with most student residences there was a boy throwing up near a tree and his friend helping or laughing. Helping in our own male orientated way by taking pictures... that sort of thing.

I asked the gentleman who was not throwing up whether or not there was a way out of this place. He paused, for a long time and said “kind of”. He led us down a path and showed us the “way out”. “You might have to climb” he said. Climb indeed. There was a small banking to help you up but in essence this part of the trip had also been wasted. I did seriously consider attempting the climb but even had I gotten over, getting the girls over may have been a bit of a push. Even if I had got over I would have slipped due to the water glazed floor and the beer still churning in my blood, without doubt into mud. This is not to be advised in front of two ladies of distinction. Muddy trousers are not a turn on. Or at least I don’t think so.   

Deciding against the scaling of the fence, we asked if there is another way out. The gentleman, who had clearly been smoking something rather naughty, stumbled into another yes. He was very nice man who was chatty and attempting to be as helpful as possible. He offered a route straight through his house to the “other way”. We entered his house; friend still having issues outside, slid down the side of the bike in the hall way, smelled the proof that the gentleman was clearly inclined to a smoke, through the kitchen resisting the urge to compliment the house just in case he thought I was taking the piss. We exited the back door, to find ourselves in a quad of houses. In all fairness we had not moved on. In fact we had gone backwards. I knew the quad from a friend that had lived on the campus previously. We had in fact been led to the gate which we had entered. I attempted not to let the disappointment etch to my face as I thanked the baked young man.

Walking back up the hill toward the cathedral once again, the rain had now stopped, not that my dripping hair or stuck-to-me-shirt knew, Mack’um exclaimed that this was “an ordeal”. It had been. We had spent at least half an hour in the campus only to be back where had started.  What had started out as a few drinks had now erupted into a full blown meander across the city. Under the gaze of what must be the most beautiful building in this city, we stood, three lost souls now feeling weirdly sober. This would not do. We still had the coats, we were sobering up so it was suggested that we got into a taxi. Now, this is often a risky business, taxi drivers do not take kindly to small fares generally. At this moment we didn’t care. We jumped into the taxi and he chaperoned us literally a minute and a half to the car costing us a healthy fiver. Despite this he clearly wasn’t too impressed but here it was in all of its majestic motorised glory. The car. The coats which should have never been here in the first place were placed into the car and we started our trek back up to the bustle of human activity.

I cannot understand why there are so many gates that are locked on what is really a big housing estate. It had cost us a good hour drinking time. For the girls the ordeal may have been over. We had battled rain, wind, vomiting stoners, 10,000 gates, muddy banks, bikes in hall ways, angry taxi drivers and the temptation to cut across a grave yard to find the car. For me “the ordeal” wasn’t over the night was due to twist once again....

Next up- Part three: The Last Crusade.