Then at the end of the night Sarah paid up for losing the $40 bet we'd made about whether or not she'd ever make out with a certain guy (she said she wouldn't, I had bet that she eventually would).
...I decided to duck into the only pub that I could find that seemed to be open on a Sunday night at 11pm. Some replica British pub filled with UK ex-pats. I had few pints and half-heartedly watched Chelsea v. Birmingham (booooooring) then decided to call it a night.
