I wasn't sure how much time we were going to have to get out in Manchester since we are helping plan a wedding all week, but yesterday we were able to get out.
Around 1 pm, Rob, Pershing, Rob's father, and I went to the Imprerial War Museum where we basically got to see every killing machine man has come up with in the past 100 years. It was sobering, disturbing, and interesting. I went with intentions of taking pictures, but after the first two, the museum just sort of had that feeling of sober respect where you don't make a lot of noise and you just sort of stare and wonder how man is capable of such violent engineering marvels.
We then went out for Indian food because Sallie has always sworn that its very good but everytime we've tried to go out for good Indian food in America, it turns out to be a buffet and just alright at best.
Britain has a large Indian population, so I've been told the food here is fairly authentic and delicious and that seems to be a fair assesment. I couldn't stop eating.
It was then time for us to go to a real British pub to have some British beers. This was the part of the trip I was most excited for.
We show up to a place that merely says "Pub" on the window. It's brick and besides some renovations to the actual bar area, the building looks at least 100 years old. A train would roll over us every now and than and drown out our voices. I swear it felt like a scene in a movie.
We of course had the movie scene, pre-wedding, "Are you nervous?" talk as we sipped down a few pints and finished our time in the pub with a very smooth Scotch.
It was then a race for time. We had to get to a grocery store that was still selling beer so that our night could continue. We passed various drunken Brits running the gammit of every stereotype I've seen. There was the Sex Pistol's looking punk, the white trash Brit with the thick cockney accent, and the overly drunk Brit screaming things like, "Oi, I'm right pissed."
It was a good night.
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