That was a Crazy Weird Night

I was nineteen years old and attending most of my lectures at the University of Leeds, Yorkshire, England.

One evening after all the exams in my first year were finished, I went out into the city centre for a friends birthday. We were in a fantastic bar. It was only fantastic because it served triple spirit mixers for £1.50. Welcome to The North.

Now, this is a lethal combination. Nineteen year olds and copious volumes of cheap alcohol. You need not worry because it turns out I was already sick, I just hadn't realised it yet. The first drop that hit my stomach cause a Mount Vesuvius style eruption, luckily into a bathroom stall.

Nowadays I'd call the night there. "I'm done." I'd say. Then, however...

I tried to hang in there, gave it ten minutes and tried again. Poor decision, same outcome. Can I call it charming naivety?

Here though, gripping the same toilet rim I'd cleaned ten minutes ago. I called it a night. None of my friends could argue with that call and to be fair to them, they didn't try.

That's the setup done with, this is where the evening began for me.

I walked out of the bar and up the hill towards the University and the student halls I was staying in. It wasn't very far, easily walkable.

After ten metres, I notice a young lady being harassed by this older looking bloke. She screams at him, loud. And he leaves, rightly, still five metres ahead of me.

He takes the next left and when I reach the same point I see him just stood there, waiting. Not cool dude.

So I turn to tell the girl what's going down and that the bouncers outside would happily oblige to sort him out should he return. And that's exactly what I did. I wait for her to finish talking to the bouncers just to make sure everything's hunky dory. And for as far as I can tell, she turns, screams and runs away. Odd is an understatement. I check over my shoulder and there, perched like a parrot is the maniac who was around the corner.

The only words I heard that guy speak that night will stick with me forever. "She's a tricky one, isn't she?" Oh dear God! If only I had that statement to analyse for my English GCSE, there's far too much packed into six little words.

I had no idea how to react to that one, I just gave him a bit of shove and not so kindly told him to leave.

Now at this stage people have told me I should've left and gone home. I'm not sure that would have been the right call but besides that, she'd handed me her bag and I definitely wasn't going to pocket the tenner or whatever she had in there. I chased down this spec at the end of the road with my queasy stomach and calmed her down in a bus stop. Or, at least, got her as calm as a person who inhaled coke for a two of the last three hours could be.

I tried to reunite her with her friend in the club to go to to take drugs on a Monday night. Surely bouncers know the reputations of the clubs they bounce at, but they declined her three times in sixty seconds.

Rejected and dejected, she asks me to help get her home. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? And that's not a difficult task in the centre of Leeds, there were taxis everywhere.

Before you know it we are outside her house in Headingly. We'd gone from one mile from my place to three miles the other side. But she did pay for the taxi with the ten pounds that could have been mine earlier.

I get her a glass of water, that was when her housemate arrived home. Not alone, if you know what I mean.

Now, seeming as the character database is growing, I'm going to give these people names. On the night, I did know everyone's names but that was five years ago and we haven't kept in contact. You'll see why.

The young woman we met earlier shall from here on out be known as Cokey, the housemate - Roomie and her companion - Guy.

Oh, and they are all off their nuts on coke.

Guy is 6ft5 and built out of brick. Now I'm 6ft3 but I wasn't going to mess with this guy.

And for whatever reason, Lil' Cokey goes ballistic! Bouncing of walls, screaming at this poor guy.

Remember a couple of minutes ago when you felt really sorry for her? Yeah, that's gone. And it doesn't get better.

Guy fights back a bit, it's all verbals and getting a bit feisty. And I'm just stood in the living room watching like it was a competitive sport, captivated.

This argument moved to the kitchen where Cokey picks up a bloody knife from the worksurface (Bloody the expletive, there was no blood on the knife). Guy returns with an identical move and these were not butter knives, proper 6-inch blades (A woman's 6 inches not a man's 6 inches).

Roomie was in the room until then, enjoying the screaming judging by how much she did it. Now she's left to go to bed.

I was not keen to witness a murder, didn't fancy having to talk to the police at this time of night. So I edge towards them making soothing noises like I was trying to get a baby off to sleep.

"There, there, let's just put these down is it?"

I move my hands from on a shoulder of each of them down to the knives, they swiftly went into a draw in the kitchen, I don't think it was the right draw but that's beside the point.

Cokey runs upstairs crying. Now I'm left alone with this guy in the living room of a randomer's house. It was an odd situation. But I convince him this one-night stand is not worth the risk of getting his neck slit in the middle of the night.

The convincing wasn't that difficult, he agreed.

One hearing the door close, Cokey emerges. She's changed into pyjamas, so maybe the coke is wearing off a bit?

She sits down with a vodka in hand. I could definitely not take any more. "So, I'll be off then..." I was already by the door.

Now this is 8 hours after I first tried to go home and I have an hour walk ahead of me because not even in Leeds do taxis operate at 6am on a Monday night.

I get in as one of my flatmates is getting up for lectures that morning. Needless to say I missed mine.