Drunk Eighteen-Year-Olds Aren't As Funny As They Think They Are, Or Why You Should Never Drink at Kicki's.

So we went out last night with A and her New Boyfriend, who I'd met a couple of times before. Ash suggested an admittedly dodgy bar called Kicki's, which apparently had a dance floor as well as karaoke. It was also free before 9.30. So, we caught the train into Stockholm and met up with New Boyfriend, who hasn't slept properly in weeks (he's on call at his job a whole lot) and who had consumed a bottle of wine.

We got to stroll down the beautiful Queen's Street to get to the bar. I love this street, as it happens to be the most lovely way to get to Oldtown. They've hung up hundreds of colourful banners in honour of either the emergence of summer or the World Cup. Either way, it's usually fairly packed, and was more so last night because of the hundreds of students out celebrating their graduation.

The bar was sort of empty when we arrived, and A had forgotten her ID. Luckily enough, the security guard didn't seem too bothered by this, and waved her through. I ordered a Corona with lime. Yes, I drink my beer like a girl, but it's oh so tasty. I don't think the bar guy was too impressed with my speaking English. Either that, or he was annoyed with me for ordering while he was trying to watch the soccer. (Sweden lost, for all you non-sporty folk.) New Boyfriend told us some rather horrific work stories, including one in which a mental patient (he works in a hospital) tried to borrow a knife from him. According to NB, the guy would have been content with a screwdriver.

We played the pokies for a bit (I bet a whole 20 kronor, $3.50) and managed to lose. Ash won her money back. Go her. Then we all piled into the next room, still awaiting the karaoke. NB said I would be his god if I sang 'All By Myself' in the foetal position and cried on stage. I must admit that I was sorely tempted. But no, I had my song all picked out, Blondie's 'Hangin' on the Telephone.' It was then that the badly dressed teens wandered in. A word of advice. If you have bleached blonde hair, from the bottle or naturally, please don't pile on foundation that is two shades too dark for your skin. It makes you look like you're trying to hide the fact that you've been dead for a month, and have decided to once more rejoin the living through some feat of necromancy. Really, it does. So don't.

The students were all wearing silly little hats, like the captain of the Loveboat. Most of them looked like they'd never been out in their lives. For the record, Kicki's is a venue that allows eighteen-year-olds. Some places, you must be 21, some as much as 27. No idea why. Perhaps they're trying to target more specific customers? Anyway, Kicki's was crawling with youngins, most looking apprehensively at shots of alcohol with 'Do I dare?' faces.

NB and I both ordered five shots of alcohol each. It was only 100:- for a rack of 5, but they only had three or four flavours. Ash had some liquorice ones, which were salty and foul. I made do with raspberry, which tasted like crap and gave me a headache. Stupid cheap alcohol. NB downed five in a row. He did make a face half-way through, which made me giggle.

At about 12 we gave up on karaoke and decided to bugger off. We all caught the train, and were horrified to find a tizzied-up young girl heaving her guts out all over the train floor on her way out. Some lovely soul covered it with newspaper. We wrinkled our noses and went to the other end of the train. NB was listening to his iPod, which I stole to have a look at. He had Muse, so of course we nattered about that for a while. He played Space Dementia, his favourite song. I squeed a little when he said that. A and NB got off at Tumba, so Ash and I made out for a while. Then we talked about Martin, and wondered of we should go and get Maccas. In the end, we jumped on a bus and came home to a hastily made carbonara. I told Ash about our Mi Goreng days and pined a little for them.

It was rather a terrible night out, but sort of fun all the same. Still, it was strange being surrounded by kids younger than my little brother. I would rather have gotten pissed with him, as most of his mates are pretty cool.