Around the World in 87 Days - Chapter 22 - author passes out on champagne and gets subsequently violated by...

the newspaper article of:

VINCENT RIOU... winner of the VENDÉE GLOBE 2005. GRAND FELICITATIONS ET MERCI!!!

He broke the previous around-the-world record by 6 days!

THIS IS A PICTURE OF ME, SOMETIME THIS AFTERNOON, RECOVERING NOT FROM THE WIN, BUT FROM THE PARTY AFTERWARDS.

So last night I hosted a little get together to celebrate the end of this wonderful race. Needless to say, french artists are not necessarily sports lovers. So, an odd collection of anti-sailing fans, who just came for the fake champagne.

A recap of the night...
At 10:30pm, still nobody but Dacnar and myself, parked in front of the tele, drinking Norman Cider.

11pm, arrival of Manue and Vincent, who don't really care about the race, but think it's really cute to have a party, for whatever which way reason. I can appreciate, and support this reason. Especially since they humour my intense sports analysis of the race.

11:30pm, phone calls by Chapoulie and Herbie, warning lack of presence due to overwhelming fatigue. But, promises for dinner and drinks forthcoming, so reasonably appeased.

11:45pm, Riou 1 mile from the finish line, supported by a fleet of small boats. Finally France 3, one of the National TV Stations, gets its act together and starts broadcasting.

11:47pm, Riou crosses finish line. Live broadcast terminates. So much for french television. It sucks, but what else is new.

11:48pm, first bottle of fizzy wine uncorked. Everybody's spirits picks up except mine. Beginning of post-race depression.

11:52pm, Jules comes over, fresh from hanging out with the Voinster on their Icelandic project. She then proceeds to regale us with stories of heinous art tyrants and giant rolls of scotch tape. Bubbly beginning to work

12:21am, Leo and the Lacombite come over. Very happy to see the new lovers though Leo inadvertantly outs herself by saying she doesn't give a shit about the race. So what is this? Wine appreciation night?

The Lacombite immediately begins to speak french, much to my amazement, perfectly... though with an atrocious southern accent. But he's understandable, and even starts rattling on about unlistenable Quebecois rap group Wynock. ewwwwwww

A rift opens between the contemporary artist crew, and the Lacombite/Leo crew. Some people like to talk about Scotch tape, other people like to talk about Quebecois rap bands and Justin Timberlake. go figure. I take no part in this rift... because I like to wax poetic about Justin's crying-a-broken-river-breast-exposing-groin-snaps, while simultaneously sympathising with one of the most abused sectors in the working industry: contemporary art assistants. Ahhh...the histrionics and ego-centrism of professional contemporary artists, that is a ripe and luscious topic.

..... time starts to get hazy, more bottles get uncorked, the room really gets cloudy with all the cigarette smoke.

Sometime after 1:45, Outlaw comes online, so he chats with the Lacombite. They are old and good friends. I start rattling on about other things... Everybody started to look kind of rattly, like is there a train passing under my feet? I think my brain was turning to guacamole. I think my brain is turning to guacamole... oh gosh, shut up! SHUT UP!!! And then people left, late in the night. My eyes were already rolling in my head when Outlaw got kicked off the internet by his evil parentals.

I don't even remember what I said...or how I rolled into bed. I think fake champagne is like lighter fluid, with bubbles injected.