University students are known to get in a bit of trouble here and there but this one student seems to come back with the craziest stories and this is one of them...
The night started with heavy drinking and the possibility of drug consumption before entering Fabric, one of London's popular nightclubs, for a group of young men. This group of young university students is quite an eclectic bunch: mix a hyperactive kamikaze, a lightweight, a fearless/impulsive rule-bender, + two individuals who spend a lot of time with Mary Jane and you can start to see the scene.
The story is told by the hyperactive kamikaze, let's call him "H" for confidentiality purposes.
His mission started Friday: "I was so drunk, I didn't really know what was going on." (Great way to start a story) After the boys left their flat they boarded a Southwest train heading to Waterloo Station and on the way ran into a "raving lunatic of a girl" who persisted to pester H when he came to realise that one member of his wolf pack had a bleeding face after trying to drink vodka out of a plastic bag full of glass.
The train went further and the night began to unfold. The group was one man down after someone got sick and after they reached their destination they lost another. Three were left and only three made it into Fabric, leaving me with the image of sweaty swaying people, strobe lights, dubstep, and acid.
After the club H decided to head back to Oxford to see his mum:
(sometime in the early am)
"I went to the coach station where I missed the coach back to Oxford. I had to sit there in the cold for an hour, luckily a guy called Chris with brilliantly coloured ginger hair turned up looking to get on the bus, he was from Detroit. We exchanged stories about stupid nights we had out, real nice guy. We both got on the coach when it came, slept back to Oxford, said 'farewell' to Chris and headed home.
When I got home I went upstairs to wake my mum but she wasn't home so I thought I'd go to bed. The next day I went to see my cousin. We kicked it at his house with his house mates for a while. We were watching the football and he won a few bets on the African Nations cup. For a while we sat there thinking of something cool we could buy but couldn't think of anything.
A Russian girl who was at his house suggested we go on a road trip! My cousin automatically said Amsterdam! I was automatically game because that place is awesome. Only problem was my passport was back in Kingston.
We made a few calls and no one could give us a lift, we made a plan to go up to London in the morning and then go to Luton Airport. We both were getting ready to go to sleep when my cousin got a phone call from his friend who said he could take us.
We both sprang up and jumped in the car, about half way through the journey we were coming off the m40 onto the m4 going roughly 70mph and the car started to power slide- it was an unusual feeling-the car was sideways and still traveling!
We thought the car would flip for sure! And if it flipped we would have been dead. Luckily we hit a road barrier which popped the front two tyres making a horrific noise, then the headlights popped and a burst of yellow light covered the front windscreen. The air bags went off filling the car with smoke. My cousin and the driver jumped out of the car, I tried, but the seat was stuck.
I was thinking 'if this car blows up I'm SCREWED'. We yanked the seat out of place and ran up the road. We used the sos phone to call for help and because we were on a slip road the cars were shooting by. I stood in the middle of the road dodging traffic, waving my hands to try make them slow down. None of the street lamps were working and I had nothing on but black so I nearly got hit a few times.
Two lorries were coming down the road they saw our car and tried to drive around. The Tesco lorry was going a little too fast, hit our car and stopped- the other lorry stopped just to make sure there was no damage. After 30 seconds a BMW came shooting around the corner, I jumped into the road trying to slow it down and the driver looked at me like 'what a chump'. He then saw the collision. He drove to the right then swerved to the left, hit the Tesco lorry, bounced off it, crashed into our demolished car and then deflected back off onto the Tesco lorry.
He had driven directly into the gas tank of the lorry which contained 250L of petrol. By the grace of god he didn't split it he only dented it quite badly. The drivers got out and ran. I was in shock and couldn't stop laughing. The driver of our car was organising someone to pick up our write off and my cousin had double vision. The highway patrol came and secured the situation and re-opened the road.
When the salvage truck came he asked who was in our car, we said we were and he replied 'really?' We were puzzled and asked why, he said 'there's nothing wrong with you, you should be massively injured or even dead'. He then told us he could only drop us off at Heathrow so we had to negotiate a deal.
He took us Kingston where we signed off the car and went back to Halls. We all went inside and put on more clothes and I got my passport, trained back to Oxford and headed to Luton Airport with no sleep.
We completely brushed the whole situation like it didn't happen, we didn't tell anyone anything. We jumped on the plane to Amsterdam where we persisted to chill in baller hotels and smoke up in coffee shops.
Moral of the story: Have fun, but wear a seatbelt."
