Awrite, I'll give ye a few funny stories from my Edinburgh Fringe experience this year. They kinda happened one day after the other.
So, I arrive on the Friday with my sister, and we just miss the first show we'd booked to see. Me, being a bit cheeky wee shite and very much a provocateur, decide to wear a funny t-shirt, which unlike last year was more subtle and obvious in it's humour:
And much to my shock, this tall, ginger-haired Scottish guy sidles up tae me and goes:
"Awright, big man. Like yer t-shirt by the way", shaking my hand in the process. Which made me both smile and chuckle.
So, after we see the 2nd show we had tickets, my sister and I are just passing the time, chatting away, browsing the internet on our phones. When suddenly, as I'm still turned away chatting to my sister, this English woman says
"Hello", and I turn in her direction. Now I don't know if it was the shirt, but clearly she must've been standing in front of me a few second before engaging with me.
Anyway, as she talkin' to me, I'm nodding away, giving the illusion that I haven't zoned out completely, when I have done just not. But not outta boredom, but because I've just recognised the woman... who is a comedienne I've been a fan for a few years now. Due to discovering her via her own YouTube channel.
Though, me being a totally starstuck and anxous, say nothin'.
h: I just hope I'm not doing this: :shyness: While, inside my head I'm going:
"Is that her? F**k! It is as well. Oh my God, I've still got that personalised signed photo I got from her on my wall!"
Totally freakout, right? Which turn to hysterics when, after the woman gets done talking to us and go off around the corner, my sister pipes up asking if I'd recognised her. To which I make reference to the photo. Then after much debate we decided to go to the venue where the show is taking place and get tickets. Purely based on the fact, so far, only nervous studenty-lookin' folk huv approach and barely spoke to us about the flyer their handing out.
Oh, but it gets worse. That evening we come out of the Gilded Balloon venue, which is hosting a majority of the Edinburgh shows this year. Nae jackets, or tracksuits. Just the t-shirts we had on all day. And, you guess it... Typical of the Scottish weather it starts raining.
And the chair-lift which got my wheelchair-bound arse and my sister into the venue has stopped working. There's a queue from all the way down the steps that lead into the venue - as the next show is completely.
And the shower is getting heavier and heavier. By the time we get into the chair-lift, we're soaked. By the time, we get out, due to the door of the lift jamming and leaving us stuck, the rain is running down the back of my wheelchair.
As we head for my sister car, the hair on my arms is ringing wet. And hilarity as my sister thinks she's lost her key, but only misplaced them and fumbles to find 'em. Do so as the shower become relentless, with spits of rain bouncing off the pavement.
Ever the smart-arse, I deliver a well-timed, witty one-liner:
"Ah'll no be needing a shower the night"
We get in the car, and just start laughing to the point of tears. My sister's long hair is completely soaked, as are her glasses. My t-shirt, trouser and boxer-shorts are soaked through as well. The only thing we have to dry ourselves off is the red vest I was wearing on the drive into Edinburgh.
On top of that I have to take my shirt off to dry myself, exposing my incredibly hairy upper-body. In the end I had to strip-off the tracksuit top I'd decided against wearing all day, on the journey home. As did my sister, but at least, her tits were covered. My hairy chest wus'nae...And our mum wasn't amused to hear we'd be caught in this hellish rainfaill, though.
Though, that story is nothing compared what is about to happen just 24 hours later, the following day.
