Boxing Day and the Day After

After eating our fill of Christmas foods, we decided to take our friend Nathan out for two more English specialties: Indian food, and fish and chips. On Boxing Day, the day after Christmas, hardly anything was open for business. We walked around for at least an hour trying to find a pub. The one pub that WAS open (called Varsity interestingly enough for all you Atlanta readers) was too rowdy for my taste, so we decided to try Rajpooth, the same Indian restaurant where we met the Texans at the beginning of our time in Durham. Success! With all of the students out of town for the holidays, it was just us and "the people" (locals). We got our food and were enjoying some delightful conversation when there was some scuffling. 

To make a long story short, a fight broke out outside of the restaurant while some of the patrons were on a cigarette break, and a young woman got "popped in the snout," as my Nathan likes to say. Her nose was bleeding and she was rushed off to the restroom by one of her friends. Another guy in her party came back in next, shaking his right hand and loudly proclaiming something to the effect of, "You should have seen the other guy." I'm not sure if he was defending the lady's honor or if she got mixed up in the middle trying to break things up between he and "the other guy," but everyone in the restaurant stopped eating and was trying their best not to stare. 

It wasn't but a few moments later the opposing party rushed into the restaurant, at least four big Geordies, yelling racial and homophobic slurs at the group now inside, trying to finish business it seemed. It was clear that everyone in both groups was quite drunk. I was getting uncomfortable, as was everyone else, but was pretending to really savor every bite of my chicken tikka masala. Somehow, things got calmed down, but I noticed that once the ruffians left, an Indian waiter kept the door locked and only let people in if they wanted to eat inside. 

No one seems to know why Boxing Day is called Boxing Day, but I now have it on good experiential authority that it's called that because English people like to box. Sam, that sweeping generalization was just for you.

The next day, Nathan and Nathan went on a walk around town and did some pub hopping to enjoy a fine selection of warm beers. That night, we opted to get some fish and chips. One simply cannot go to England and not have fish and chips. We first tried "the best place in town" (Bell's) according to our landlord, which was quite a distance away on foot. We got lost, called friends for directions, kept walking and walking and walking in the freezing cold, and finally got there! Closed. Typical.

We ended up walking back into town and trying The Court Inn, where the Nathans enjoyed a beer earlier in the day, but we decided to take it home to eat it. By the time we got there, we had been out for more than two hours, and our fish and chips were a bit soggy. Not to be deterred, we popped everything back into the oven for a bit and then chowed down. 

 That's a lot of fried food my friends.

Making memories... 

Nathan, we enjoyed your company this Christmas. Y'all come back now, ya hear?