If you have been following my Tweets or Facebook status updates for the past week or so, you’ll know that I was anticipating a weekend of epic Canadian Junos partying.
Last weekend far exceeded my expectations and effectively put me out of commission for at least a few weeks. As a result I developed insomnia, a head cold, and a strong aversion to Jockey Club.
I have been left in a state of haze since the whole ordeal happened. I can barely wrap my head around it. Myself and the others involved are still dealing with the aftermath.
Anyway, so we threw a massive barbecue on Friday night for Matt’s and Renee’s friends from out of town. The boys were visiting Newfoundland for the first time, so we expected to greet them at the door with a case of Jockey Club and another case of India Pale Ale. But their flight was postponed so they actually showed up around 1 a.m., with a party in full swing, and no supper in sight.
Fortunately for us, bars on George Street were open until 4 a.m. in celebration of the Junos, giving us some leeway.
The night turned out to be a good one. That’s all I have to say.
Saturday morning we got up, loaded two cars full of people, and headed to the Classic Cafe for some fish and brewis, toutons and Caesars. Yes, Caesars. Hair of the dog…it works.
Matt and I then took the boys on a little tour around downtown St. John’s, stopping for coffee, wandering through George Street sober (a humbling experience, really), along the water front, and then to Fred’s Records where live entertainment was taking place.
We then went on an epic roadtrip to see the oil tankers in CBS, but got sidetracked and ended up at a lame wharf instead. I think we were in Kilbride. Still, it was a neat way to see something outside of St. John’s, and some of the scenery was incredible.
By the time we got back into town, it was time for Round 2. We loaded up on food and cooked up some halibut and cod tongues, showered and invited some people over. It turned out to be another fantastically late night, introducing the boys to all our regular haunts. Renee’s friends, however, got to party with the Trailer Park Boys at their hotel and ended up meeting a bunch of celebrities. But whatever, we’re cooler. We flaked out in bed at 7 a.m., just as the sun was rising.
Sunday morning…Sunday morning was rough. We lingered in bed for most of the day watching television, keeping in mind that our REAL night out was approaching fast.
Mostly, I did not make it.
We headed to George Street at around 9 to watch Junos on George, but by that point, we didn’t even need our tickets. We were a little annoyed until we realized the ticket was our admission to all the bars. We watched some of the Junos on the big screens set up along the street, then headed to Christian’s for the Screech In ceremony.
The Screech In ceremony is a bit controversial for some (and I’ll explain more about it later in a separate blog post), but it’s basically a ceremony where you say a bunch of Newfie stuff, take a shot of Screech rum, eat some bologna, and then you’re sworn in. It’s a lot of fun and a big laugh, plus I have some sweet videos to share with you later.
Finally, we headed to O’Reilly’s for some sweet Irish jiggin’. I lasted about 20 minutes before I had to head home and crawl into bed, but my body was destroyed anyway.
What a weekend. What an amazing group of people, what fun! The indulgence was a little overboard, but you know what? I don’t even care. I needed an unplugged weekend to blow off steam, and it turned out fantastic.
We weren’t the only ones to indulge either — I’ve heard rumors that some pubs ran out of beer. True story.
And I guarantee that if you make it to St. John’s, you’ll receive the same treatment.