So, I have a birthday story to tell. It all started in Belgrade, where Ivan and myself met Milos and Jovana, our newfound Serbian friends, at 11 in an Irish pub just near Ivan's house. After we all got there, it was decided that as I had only a few minutes to go until my birthday, we should go back to Ivan's place and get as drunk as possible before midnight. We got in at 11:56, I drank as much of the various Serbo-croat brandies as I could, and then it turned midnight and I was presented with my birthday cake- a Jaffa Cake with a lighter stuck in it, with the gas button held down with a hairband so that the flame stayed on. Wonderful, and meant I could eat my entire birthday cake in one go. We chatted, drank and had an awesome time until about half five, when the others left and Ivan and I tucked into the leftover Pizza from earlier in the night.
The morning was horrible - we were up at half 10, and stumbled to the square to get the bus. When we got there, there was a bloke with a cab who was driving to the airport to pick someone up, and so was offering lifts for the same price as the bus- 200 Dinar, or about £2. Ivan and I discussed this as an option, and decided that it would be a more interesting way to get to the airport, and far less crowded than the bus. After I got in that cab, we drove around touting for more business for a while, then there was a thunk, the engine made a funny noise, and we had to pull over by a bus stop opposite a McDonalds, and wait for the airport bus anyway. The chap in the front of the car ("Sprechen sie Deutsch?" "Nein" "[well Matt, Im going to tell you what's wrong with the car in German anyway]") explained that the car had overheated, and needed water, I think. Anyway, the bus was there within a few minutes, and after a brief nap on the floor at the airport I used some of my remaining Dinar to buy a bottle of Vinjak, which I was looking forward to subjecting my friends to. On the flight I was looking forward immensely to some sort of breakfast, but instead I received a tiny pot of white chocolate ice cream. When I arrived in Zurich a couple of things happened - my hangover suddenly kicked in, I changed $20 into Swiss francs, and spent the equivalent of $15 (!!) on a burger king meal. I then realised the time, rushed through security, and found that apparently I am not permitted to take alcohol from outside the European Union onto the plane in my hand luggage. Due to the fact that I thought I had been clever, and had no check-in baggage, the only thing to do was to throw it away. Happy Birthday to me. The rest of the flight was alright, I just dozed, received a tiny and rubbish sandwich, arrived in Heathrow and missed my train by two minutes, meaning that I missed my connecting train home and had to wait another hour in London, all of which meant that I arrived home with about 45 minutes of my birthday remaining. Thank god I had a good start to the day.
