Just after my 25th birthday, my younger sister and I set our sights on a Scottish adventure. We were two traveling vagabonds, living out of our backpacks for a month and trekking around the highlands. We stayed in hostels, got everywhere by train or foot, and carefully counted out our pounds and pences (yes, we were broke).
Naturally, we visited quite a few pubs during our travels. On the Isle of Skye, I got a bit hammered off thick Scottish beer in a little pub called King Haakon's in the small fishing village of Kyleakin. Ahh, what a night! Drinking with the locals, dancing with young and old in the cramped pub, and one old gent trying unsuccessfully to marry me off to his 15 year old grandson. I escaped unwed and only slightly hung over.
The most memorable night of all occurred on our last evening in Edinburgh. We had teamed up with Lori, a Canadian girl whom was sharing our hostel room. We wandered the city, popping into pubs for a drink before moving on to the next one. Finally we ended up in a modern establishment attached to the hostel. Neon lights and funky barstools declared this was the place for the hip and young.
We ordered Jaeger shots since they were the advertised special. Well, that and 10 pence mugs of Bud Light, but who goes to Scotland to drink Bud Light? The bartender informed us they were fresh out of Jaeger but they would give us shots of absinthe for the same price.
Oh, the green fairy is a cruel mistress! The sickly sweet drink went down smooth. Countless shots later, after a long conversation with a barstool and a mocking session of a young player from Houston whom thought he was a gift from the gods, we stumbled up the stairs to our room and passed out. The next thing I remember is waiting to board our flight home in Amsterdam.