Triads?

*Mum, Dad, Granny don't get too worried about this story. Sure it's all just fiction and the result of Dave and I being quite drunk at the time, but this is what we have managed to remember.*


Friday night, the end of a long week teaching, where the novelty of returning to work after a week off had worn off after 1 day. Dave now finishes at 12 on fridays, which is good for any travelling we might want to do later, so we'd spent the day watching the west wing, going to the gym and bumming about town. In the evening we downed a few cans of Newcastle Brown Ale, A bottle of local Beer and a bottle of fine Great Wall White Wine, and this set us up for our evening. We headed out to hotel bars for a more sophisticated night out, and also to check out where my parents would stay when they came to visit.


Anyhow after a few hours of fine dining and drinking we ended up back at The Scotland. Stayed there for a while and got a taxi home about 3.3oam. For some reason the taxi driver dropped us off quite a walk from home and we stumbled down the street. We decided we were hungry so stopped off at our favourite 24 hour cafe/bar at the end of our street-which you've heard about many a time now. Things were going well. We ordered our food and sat down and were making our best drunk attempts to talk to the waiters and the owner. When 3 guys all dressed in black sat the table opposite.

At this moment the atmosphere died, everyone stopped talking and there was definite a mood of uneasyness in the air. I'm not sure if they ever did order anything to eat or drink they just seemed to sit there and stare at us. After a while of us occaisionally glances over in their direction, they start making some sort of hand signals to us. This turns into them making clenched fists and motioning us to go over into the street and have a fight. We laughed it off and thought that they must be as drunk as we are. It wasn't until closer expection of their clenched fists (i don't mean up close, I mean that we were actually able to focus on them) that we realised that they all had the same black scorpion tatto in the exact same place. At this point we realised they might be more than just drunk taxi drivers.

Dave therefore decides to deflame the situation by going up shaking their hands and shouting hello and nihau at them, whilst grinning inanely. They didn't really respond. Dave returns to his seat and they leave shortly after. We tried to establish from the waiters who they were and what they wanted, but we couldnt get a response.

The next day we walked past the resturant again, and the cooks who are usually extremely friendly and love to greet their western drunkard teacher friends, bowed their heads and ignored us as we walked by.

I think Dave and I might avoid that particular late night establishment for a while.