Premature Alhiculation

My last Saturday in London and I feel the need to "get after it" or party a little bit. Giuseppe will go to dinner and a bar but not a club. I whine about having not been to one single club my whole trip to no avail. Tracy even has a friend (Jenny who came to my birthday and cooked us a propa British meal at her home), who has a boyfriend, who has a brother that manages an exclusive members only night club. Another new concept to me but apparently there is too much money in London to have normal night clubs. Oh well dinner and drinks it is, the babysitter is only there until 12:30 and that's when everything starts opening up anyway. Needless to say I was a little disappointed...until Tracy hooked it up. Jenny asked if I wanted to go without Tracy and (sorry Tra) I don't have a baby waiting at home for me, so I jumped ship. I didn't think I needed to pace myself for the whole night so my alcohol level was almost at capacity. I meet Jenny in front of the club, so excited to get after it. Her boyfriend orders me a drink, I ask for Captain and Coke and he kind of scoffed and said they had better rum than that. Slightly offended but not deterred from downing the drink that was almost all rum and a spritz of coke, we head over to VIP. Apparently there is an American actor here, can't remember the name but he was in Fantastic Four. This is everything I wanted, sigh. Oh they are bringing bottles to the table and pouring me a glass of chamagne, exciting! One sip and I knew that if I didn't get out of there soon I was going to have to grab one of the cups off the table and puke in it. Aaaaa I'm a total liability(that's what they call drunk people in London) So I ask for water and hope that they would bring it discreetly, but no, everyone sees and I get crap for it. One guy leans over and asks me "Have you traveled much?" and I ask "Besides here?" to which he responds "Wait a minute where are you from?" I say U.S. and he hands me more water and goes on to tell me how British girls are all alcoholics. At this point the water is not really helping, I'm really trying hard to focus on not being a D-bag, falling over or the dreaded yakking. Jenny looks concerned and asks me if I'm ok, I don't really want to admit the answer is no...I'm shammered and I didn't think that I drank that much. I tell her that I should probably go and that I've had a lovely time. Obviously I can't hang with the big kids. She negotiates with the club car to drop me off for free but it's a shared ride (I think they paid) and the gut drops me off 3 blocks away. Not a big deal except for the 7 inch heels and the unfortunate condition my stomach was in. Thought process: It would be kind of an awesome London experience to yak in the street. I don't remember these sidewalks being a switchback. Oh there's a wobbly bit, is it me or the sidewalk. Which I might add is a logical question considering that many sidewalks have wobbly panels. Alas I didn't yak in the street and I buzz the flat. Tracy says over the intercom, "What are you doing here, you've only been gone an hour!" In my defense it was two hours and then I yakked in the toilet and crawled upstairs to bed.