"Well done for not being the most embarrassing girlfriend there this evening!" Mills said, giving me a congratulatory high-five. You see, I not only had I not tipped my drink down the front of my top, I had also managed to not be the one at the table with tampons sticking out of my nose.
We went out with Mills's group of expat colleagues and their partners. Earlier in the evening, one of the Danish girls thought she was whipping out her box of ciggies, when in fact she had casually tossed a packet of super tampons on to the table. Much awkward mocking followed.
Later, after a number of beers and a sambucca or two, the Danish girls decided to give the boys an education in feminine hygiene. The box of tampons were hauled out with pride and one was lit. Another was unwrapped and dangled from an earlobe. Yet another was stuck up a nostril, another in an earhole. Still more were unwrapped and tossed at the poor Southern co-worker from mid-Texas.
This morning, a pub employee would have been cleaning up around our table of 25-35 year olds, wondering how the hell a bunch of 13-year-olds got into their establishment.
Good, clean, adult humour.