I woke up this morning in an odd yoga position on an uncomfortable blue sofa freezing my feet off as someone had his head permanently lodged in the dustbin whilst he puked. Surrounding the floor of the apartment were various patrons to the NYE roof party the night before, a wild and
windy new years party 6 months after the actual New Years Eve. Why? Because that's how Man Method does things.
Four days ago I was on a Malaysian Airlines 747 on my way to the UK, squished in an uncomfortable chair trying to eat a steak with a plastic fork and knife in the midst of air turbulence. By the end of it I was left with broken cutlery and steak juice all over my pillow and clothes. I spent the rest of the 12 hour flight awake and bright eyed watching Hitch and reading Dan Brown's 'Angels and Demons' (which I finished just before we landed).
With me on the flight was Naren (pictured right), who got a job offer in Leeds (I think). Throughout the flight we talked, mainly about the intense rudeness of the airline staff, which I found odd.
Example? I pressed the button to call a stewardess. Meanwhile, Naren was reading some finance book and listening to the in-flight radio, flicking through channels on the controller. The stewardess came, snatched (not took, snatched) Naren's controller, switched off the
'call-stewardess' light, and was about to fuck off.
"Excuse me," I said, "I was the one that called for a stewardess."
"What you want?" was her reply in a tone I was only accustomed to in hawker stalls (Don't worry. If you're not Malaysian, I'm sure they'll treat you like Gods). When we landed I was intensely glad I didn't have to go through anymore of that shit.
The entire taxi ride to the flat my parents rented out near Edgware Road I stared out the the window, taking in the sight of England. This trip felt different somehow. It felt less like coming back to a familiar place, more like I was a tourist. A real tourist. I truly felt quite
alienated when I finally landed, and felt so the whole time I've been here up until I reached Man Method's party.
Ah, yes. Man Method's parties have now become stuff of legend, upping himself everytime. This time, not only did his crew bring the speakers, amps and decks, they also brought out halogen lamps for lighting and a tent.
Yes. A tent. To house the amp in case it rained.
Throughout the whole set up we all helped out. I was on lighting duty. They had a bunch of coloured gels which we put on boxes to project on the walls.
They also made good helmets. Not in a practical sense, of course, but they do look rather fetching.
Unfortunately, some of the neighbours weren't digging the vibe. Before you knew it, a man from the council was at the party, requesting the music be turned down and eventually switched off completely. By 4.00am the last survivors were in Man Method's bedroom, trying to find new methods of sleeping with available space.
When I woke up it was 6.00am and made my way to the greasy spoon opposite for beans and egg on toast. Now everyone's asleep again. Except me. Fuck, I might as well be. If it weren't for the photos, this would be a pretty crap post. What do you expect? I had an hour of sleep
and I've been partying on a roof all night.
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