A Stag Weekend Becomes A Moveable Feast
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One Lucky Stag Has a Try of Heaven in Estonia's Thumping Capital
There is very much to love about a stag weekend in Tallinn. At this time, all I really could hear was 'Void you like another beer?', and all I could see was row upon row of straight, white, excellent Estonian teeth and long, shiny, blonde Estonian hair. The waitress, and owner of said teeth and hair, was asking for the trillionth time: 'Beer. Do-you-want-another-one?' Even though it had been my stag night which made me emperor and overlord of all, I surveyed. I could not actually muster eye contact and so just nervously spluttered out a well rehearsed 'Jah!' Sweet. Beer in the shape of the fine 'Le Coq Premium' would be shortly on its way and, well, I must admit that my Estonian was coming down magnificently.
But before the beer could even be pulled from the beer pulling thing, before Miss Estonia could actually return to service our table, the lights dimmed and there was a venerable hush. And soon after what had to be the slowest minute known to man, a vision made an appearance like a phoenix rising. Or something. Only 23 and a half hours sooner, I had been arguing regarding the price of insulation batts in Reading Argos and now, in front of me stood - or instead lay -a moveable feast in every sense of the word. She was Tanya. She was 22. She was coming from Haapsalu. Or was it Hishpalaa? Somewhere west of the capital. She was naked. She had our dinner strategically placed on her twenty two year old perfect Estonian body. She was very talented.
In Japan, this practice is called nyotaimori and the name literally means 'adorned body of a woman' and for the next three hours, the unlimited beer flowed and me and my 29 best friends wined, dined and hatched plans about escaping management consultancy and putting up our own bar in down town Tallinn. Or maybe we could open an English school. Or an academy for young women wanting to be mastered in the ways of contemporary British life. My Tallinn stag weekend was only half a day old and it was fast surpassing Skegness as my holiday destination of choice. We toasted to the Saku the finest Estonian lager to pass my lips, to Reading topping the table and to Tanya's left thigh. We toasted to Tallinn's remarkable ability to create the highest concentration of the fit birds per square mile and, needless to say to me and my approaching nuptials. We were still toasting when we left Tanya half blanketed in dessert and fig leaves and little else. We were toasting the spectacular delights of Tanya's right thigh in a rather loud manner, lager and le Coqs in hand, as we noticed what appeared to be a troupe of troopers walking in our general direction.
Crazy-Tallinn-street-cleaners-who-just-couldn't-part-with-their-soviet-army-fatigues (to them, it'd always be 1989). We toasted to 1989. To Berlin. To Gorbachev. To Reagan. To Yeltsin, who we were all certain was extremely positive of the infinite native delights of Estonia. To the greatest stag weekend ever. Thank you Tanya, wherever you might be, Tanan and Head ood! Thank you and good night. I'll never look at grilled Greek pork in the same way again.
Peter Finlay spoke to Amalia Illgner. We are happy to announce that Peter is currently a happily married man with a house filled with white goods in Reading.
Special Thanks to Chillisauce for organizing Peter's Tallinn stag weekend.
Now that's what we like to call service!
Article Source: Articlelogy.com
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