Point 10 of the Hellcurise Manifesto:
‘Learn the Finnish term “Väli-Kuolema” [co-incidentally the Finnish word of the day] it means Middle Death, it’s when you get drunk, then you pass out, you wake up again and get drunk again! On Hellcruise you’ll get drunk twice in a day! Get ready for that!’
-Hossé: ‘the guy in charge’
As you might have guessed this blog update is all about something called ‘The Hellcruise’ and drinking prodigious amounts of alcohol. Due to the heavy tax of alcohol in Finland, Sweden and Norway, people have thought of ever more creative ways to damage their liver without spending too much money.
By this I mean they get on a ferry and make use of the duty free.
Keen to cash-in with this plan I signed up in the hope that it would replace the Fresher’s shaped hole in my heart with a wild antics and crazy shenanigan-isms (it’s a word). And like Fresher’s not only was it awesome, but filled with short periods of boredom, complete disorientation and self-regret. Not because the carrot chunks got stuck in the sink, but due to the realisation that I lost my dignity a long time ago, in a disgusting land far, far away.
This was a 24 hour adventure which, if everything went according to plan, would culminate in attending my lectures at 9:15 the next morning. I was well-prepared; more than that, I was organised! The day before I made three tubs of mashed potato which had chicken and sweet-corn and all kinds of culinary delights to satisfy every nutritional craving my body demanded. I even bought four bottles of lucozade for the next morning.
The future was bright and as I looked out into the dark abyss that was 5:45, Sunday morning, I knew: this was a good idea. The ferry left at 7:15, therefore I had to be on the bus at 6:20 and boarded by 7:00 – a seemingly impossible task if it weren’t for my neighbour Frau (she’s German) Alarm-clock (she wakes me up if I need to be somewhere). She’s fast, efficient and is pretty good at English – which is really helpful when you have to be up in the morning. But this isn’t about Frau Alarm-clock or my rugged good looks; it’s not even concerned with my roguish smile.
This is about the Hellcruise.
Skipping the all the awkward conversations and boring stuff, I bought a bottle of Jack Daniels at 8:15 and we started commenced shameless drinking games roughly 20 minutes later. Yeah it was early, I don’t make a habit of it, whiskey is for roaring fire-places, ice-filled tumblers and serious discussions – of which there were none.
But whiskey is the manliest drink to drink in Finland.
Jack Daniels was also the official unofficial drink of the cruise – it was a 24hr event; we were there for one reason, and that was to drink. We hid our shame in the dark of the windowless cabins.
I love drinking with internationals.
It’s fun. Not simply because I find their accents strangely comforting but because, in Turku anyway, they went on the exchange to learn English and 9 times out of 10 they’re unaware of the implications of what they say:
‘Slapping the snake all night makes me sore!’ – pretty Lithuanian girl, complaining about having to slap the ‘snake’ in a confusing game of Ring of Fire.
This all ended up with everyone getting really, really drunk and I’m not going to go into any details because talking about how much you drink turns into a dick-measuring contest of douche-bag proportions.
Who the hell cares?
Everyone reading this (unless they have any medical or ideological reasons, which I have a respect for) will know what it is like to get drunk – this blog is gonna be up post-Fresher’s so there’s no point in lying to yourself: university is a hot bed of super-fun bad habits, drinking being the main one.
But we’d arrived in Crunkville well ahead of schedule and some people needed a power nap.
So I wandered up and down the narrow corridors of the ship trying to find my cabin. I never found it. But what I did find were a group of slutty Swedish ladies who were super drunk; a Finnish guy trying to suck the dregs from an empty bottle of vodka while using his wallet as a phone and my first experience of violent Finnish craziness. Their friendly ‘wrestling’ quickly turned into an MMA style beat down combining aggression with new levels of ingenuity never before seen in the field of drinking –I’ve always said you can’t drink with a fist half way through your face: clearly I was wrong.
The on-board ‘disco-dance floor’ was the horrific love-child of a Willow and JJ’s one night stand; terrifyingly awesome, at least I think it was – honestly I can’t remember much until roughly 5am. At that point I lost the main party people and ended up with Frau Alarm-clock and a bunch of other people who were, to my horror, not drunk.
For some reason they went on the Hellcruise not to get drunk.
A trip whose name is purely based on the torment it puts the liver through.
A trip that was so infamous that the head of the Turku-Abo student body, our once glorious leader Hossé was cast out and the Hellcruise formally denied recognition by both universities.
Unfortunately I was too drunk to clearly articulate how stupid they were and have since been called an alcoholic. I don’t mind that because I know they’re wrong. What I do mind however is the assumption that I am always drunk – this isn’t helped by the fact I only seem to find them at parties. And their shitty jokes.
“Are you sure that’s not vodka?” when its clearly water wasn’t funny the first time. It never will be funny. Of course it’s not vodka. It might have been an honest mistake two weeks ago but saying it every time you see me is not a mistake. It is wrong.
You are WRONG, and you know who you are.
So shut your face.
I never did attend my lectures.
When I got back to my flat I threw up everything known to man and crawled into the foetal position, horrified by what I had seen reflected in the toilet bowl.