Tripstars

This post is a lie. We dont even like the mentioned brand. But advertising often forces deals down your throats.

After a week long camping trip you’d usually expect to come back feeling fresh and all charged up. But the three of us felt rather drained on our arrival in the city. It was probably because of all the walking we did. And once we stepped into our pad, all but one of us wanted to do, was to crash.

Wangdi, being on a metro sexual trip these days, was rather pepped up. His pep had something to do with an apparent detox that his body had gone through. Because of all the sweating we indulged in while we trekked in the past week, wangdi had his “skin glowing with radiance”. Very gay.

So after stepping into our messy heaven, we threw our rucksacks where they least belonged and collapsed. A few minutes of lazing on the floor – in a room as hot as an oven is when thirst struck. The kind of a thirst that knows what it needs to quench itself. A thirst with a very specific antidote. We were all probably thinking about it in these many words when we passed a smile amongst each other. Wangdi being the prince of gaydom, popped up and offered to strut to the safe.

“Safe?” you might wonder. See, with beer this Godly, its imperative to have a separate refrigeration facility for it. So our very own Paris Hilton (as we’d recently started calling him)catwalked and got us our favorite golden bubbly. On the count of 4 and not 3, we chewed our retro looking botts open.

Budwieser is something that goes back quite some time, when it comes to the collective lives of the three of us. Back to our days of glory – barely a year and a half back as the “quite some time” may be. The many University matches that we not only were witness to, but part of, under its happy influence. The many classes that we attended, while our backpacks clanged with empty botts of Bud.

So we took our first sip, spared a moment of nostalgia, that hardly qualified as being called it; and carried out our ritual of sprinkling the second sip onto the framed Katrina Kaif poster. We’d only commenced with our trash talk about the failures of the National Highways Authority of India, when Wangdi snapped back to reality and screamed “Aaah… fuck detox. Im gonna guzzle”

We walked/crawled/writhed to our huge balcony that overlooks an all women’s gym and enjoyed what we realized we had been missing for a whole week. And after an hour of cleavage gazing and mathematical calculations that had a lot to do with mass and its relation to gravity, our discussion got to a point when we just couldn’t understand what it was that made us do the “get away” in the first place. The city is where us buds belonged! The city is where the life is! The budlife!