Shots of Flaming Christmas and Merry Kwanzaa to all
Daniel Boonstra (20) is a self-proclaimed passionate lover and is unanimously agreed to be a 7.5 maybe a mid-8 at a push when he wears ‘those jeans’. He studies IBCoM at the Erasmus University and enjoys long walks on the beach. Every month, he visits a student event to shed his light on what’s hot on campus.
Tonight I engaged in the native practise of my English brethren, a grand tradition that separates the boys from the men. It teaches a man that first he must march and when he can no longer march, he must crawl! Tonight is Pub Crawl night.
This challenge may sound simple but it is far from it: one must first drink at one pub, and then another, and then another other and then, by a shocking turn of events, another. The valiant men that accompanied me in this display of sheer manhood was the fine organisation of International Students Rotterdam (ISR) and the Hogeschool equivalent, Rotterdam International Student Association (RISA).
Now being that this was, in fact, a Christmas Pub Crawl I was expecting some Christmas music or decorations, or at the very least someone to wear a ridiculous Santa hat but I was sorely disappointed. I guess students really will use just about any excuse to get drunk – see you guys next Easter/Kwanzaa/Ramadan!
We started the night off at Café Beurs, where I was shocked to find around 20 members of both organisations eating salmon. Already this is the classiest Pub Crawl I’ve ever been to. In my mind, an event like this involved a whole lot more brawling, beer and bodily fluids. But hey, salmon’s good as well.
Next we soldiered through the pouring rain to café Fust. This is the normal stomping grounds for ISR as I was told that they always have a reserved table here. I was impressed by this statement, until I arrived a bar full of balding men drinking beer and watching football. It took us about 3 minutes to decide to move to the next bar. Bar Tender.
This was a genuinely epic experience. First of all: free shots! Can I get an amen? Second of all, the shots were flaming! And by this I don’t mean that they tasted good (they really didn’t) but they were literally on fire. After trying our hardest to keep the shots down – did I already say they were really gross? – we spent the next half an hour looking at the list of over 200 shots available giggling like 12 year olds at names like ‘the Blowjob’ or ‘the Ex-Pornstar’ and ‘the Screaming Organism’. Needless to say, I was too much of a whimp to try them – I wasn’t sure if I’d get drunk or get an STD.
I was told the next bar sold burgers and as much as this prospect excited me, the last train home was coming and it was still raining. I thought that maybe it was a good time to call it quits. So I saluted the valiant men that fought with me through trenches of fury, the flames of hell, the rage of war and I said: “Good night sweet sons, good night”.