We're not tourist!

It's christmas and and what could make a better substitute to going home than going to Newcastle. Little art, little wagamama's, and a little night out on the town. After finding out that we needed to kill a couple of hours before our train returned to take us home, we went sought shelter in a warm pub. Unfortuantely, Newcastle has more clubs than pubs. So we asked a bouncer where we might could find an old-time pub with some good cask ales--somewhere to kill a couple of hours. They told us they knew a place called The Yard, not to far. So we went. Once we arrived, we looked around and it was pretty low key, but no cask ales and definitely not a traditional pub. "Are you lost?" a fat jolly beatneak bluejean wearing man says to us. Pam responds, "We are just on the wrong side of the Atlantic." "What were you looking for?" the guy responds. "I was looking for some cask ales," i said. "Well you found a gay bar," the responds. "I think you're in the wrong place." Yeah, I wondered why the bar tenders weren't paying us too much attention. The jolly man told us that he thinks someone was having a joke with the tourist. "But we live here" i thought. Oh well.