Events
Sheen Unit: Bouncing BBQ - Brought to you by Vegas -
Way back when, about 4 years ago, the Sheen Unit was born. We’ve been through all the where, why, when, who and what stuff already in London Me Up’s first Sheen Unit – Irish Hometown Weekend Finale, so I won’t bore you anymore than necessary by going through all that again. However I should clarify the rules of what exactly makes a Sheen event. Because we astutely knew this would forever come up once a possible sheen was brought into question, the one rule was laid forth. In order to qualify as a Sheen Unit event, it must take place outside the city. That was outside the LS postcode during Leeds Me Up, which is why the events taking place outside Leeds (Hometown weekend, Whitby, and Wetherby are classed as such along with further afield events such as Rome). That clarified, London Me Up is no different.
Last Saturday, I went to a party/BBQ in Essex. The details of which were sketchy if not outright confusing. Jesus’ friend Becca’s parents were away for the weekend, and in such outlandishly pubescent style, she decided to go all American Pie and have a party. However something must have been lost in translation (from the American film). She assured RSVPd parties, that it would be a messy ‘all-nighter’ yet it would start at 16:00! Does this sound as strange as it did to me? How can you start off a huge adult-less, crazy house party, which you intend to go on until the sun comes back round to start another lap... at 4? Surely everyone would either burn out (pass out) before 11, or they’d destroy the house.
Unable to work it out ourselves, Jesus, Panasonic and I decided to completely ignore the guidelines, show up at about 9 o’clock and drive back as soon as things started to get messy (Jesus having been designated to drive). Turns out, it was just a pretty simple BBQ, with some drinks. What she should have said was – ‘Come round to my house, to eat BBQ food and have some drinks for the afternoon. Oh, and you’ll have to stay the night, because my house is in the middle of butt-fucking nowhere.’ That’s right, Becca lives on a huge farm (not a working farm). Which means we need 20 minutes to drive there, and 40 minutes to crawl along the same path, squinting at signs on gates to find the right one.
As soon as we rock up, Jesus takes one in the gut for being late. Skilfully dodging the bullet, he claims he had to wait for his mum to get back from wherever, whilst simultaneously sparing the host’s feelings as the real reason being he didn’t want to spend any more time than was necessary, if the party turned out to be cack. Rather thoughtful and well worth a commendation, sadly it only served him more shit for sharing a car with his mum. These farm folk, they’re so elitist. Mind you I suppose if you live on a farm, you are pretty much no one if you don’t have a car.
Being the last to arrive, no concern was wasted as we dived into the remaining food, finding it easy enough to clear out of sight. So easy in fact, no more time was spent cooking the chicken breasts we brought before disposing of those too, perhaps a little too fast if you don’t like yours with a tinge of salmonella. Oh well.
Everyone knows if you’ve potentially poisoned yourself, and your stomach’s still swilling and slightly bloated with a mixture of cider and jägerbombs, there’s only one sure-fire way to make it right. Which is why no one looked back after noticing the huge trampoline at the foot of the garden.
Weirdly it proved to be an excellent sobering device. Instead of bouncing around on what is essentially an oversized elastic band bringing up all the booze and food poisoning in your system, it seemed to settle. Breaks only required when legs and arms were replaced with jelly, or if additional tissue was needed to stem the occasional flow of blood.
At this moment I realised (the moment with the blood flow) that I have the balancing capabilities of an untrained elephant standing on a circus ball. I fell off that thing 6 times! It would have been 7, had my feet not fallen either side of the springs that one time, landing me straight from my highest bounce, ass first onto the steel edge. This, along with a bite-size chunk missing from my tongue, and a couple of nifty stamps to the body, and I’m now feeling a tad sore. Lot of fun though. I’d fully recommend it to anyone who doesn’t mind a few minor injuries here and there.
As the actual bruises started to kick in, and the limbs began to tire, we began to say our goodbyes. Luckily enough the clock had just passed 01:00, which I don’t think is an embarrassing time to have people leave your party, seeing as the drive back might as well have been from Narnia. With party reveller Andy running alongside begging for a lift like a dog wanting to come with us. Jesus stopped to pick him up, after all, he assured us his house was but 15 minutes away. 45 minutes later, and we’re back to crawling the country roads, squinting into the dark for anything resembling the turn off the satnav assures us is there. (It wasn’t).
The one advantage of the long journey was the opportunity to spot some wildlife. Even at 2 in the morning, there’s chance to catch a deer drinking out of a ditch. The thing had it’s back to us at first, and so turned around once featured by the headlights. What does a deer do when it sees a car driving towards it? Dive out the way? Maybe the things get their left and rights mixed up or something, because this one jumped right in front of us! With the very situation having come up in conversation moments before, Jesus must have been expecting it, as he swerved onto the opposite side of the road quick enough to avoid the thing. I’m thankful to say, no deer were harmed during the making of this event. The stupid thing was safe to live another day. Although would surely be killed the next day.