Being young and stupid in London

tldr: The London bus system is weird, and central london is a little creepy early in the morning.

Everybody is young and stupid at some point. Everybody has the adventures that make for great storytelling later in life. Everybody has the story they put on reserve for when they want to shock their children, who believe that their parents are nothing but stiff necked dictators, with tales of college parties or political riots or crazy music festivals (people who went to college in the 70's have the best stories).
I now have one of those stories.

I have stayed up until what-the-hell-'o lock in the morning before. But has previously involved either term papers or friends having an emotional crisis. It have never before involved wandering through central London  at 5:30am with two semi-inebriated classmates on a quest to get back to our own beds.

To those who are concerned about my well being: I am fine, nothing happened. My feet were sore, I was tired, and a lesson has been learned. But I will admit that it was quite the adventure and while I am not keen to repeat it, I did have a good bit of fun, in around the exhaustion.

Part of our studies in the UK are done through another arts school just outside of London. One of the courses of study they offer their students is called American Theatre Arts, and includes a year of study in the US. Those students are called ATAs (surprise!) and we take one of our classes with the first years. They live about 30 minutes away by train. We have been invited out there twice for house parties; I didn't go the first time.  I went the second.
It was a huge party, half house party, half ushering-in-the-new-school-year party. It must be remembered, though, that the drinking age in Great Britain is 18, but most people start drinking at around 14. You know, having a glass of wine with dinner etc etc. Drinking is much more casual. And people here don't just drink a glass or two of something. People here drink. Holy cow. I don't drink at all, and it was very interesting to watch the night progress, to say the least.
The ATAs thought we were all going to stay at their flat last night and catch a morning train out, around 9:00 or so. But we all wanted to go home and get back to our own beds. But we stayed out until 3:00am. The first train out is at 6:30. So we thought "we'll catch one of the 24 hour night busses"! Turns out, that's WAY easier said than done. After wandering around their neighborhood for awhile to find a bus stop for one of said busses, half of the group went back to the ATAs' flats to spend the night. So two of my classmates and I went off to find a bus stop. One of them was pretty drunk, the other barely tipsy, and I was sober. We finally found one! It was one of the most relieving moments I have ever experienced. We made at least 5 route transfers to account for the wonky night-bus system, basically taking whichever bus took us in the direction of the flats, and at one point found ourselves at 5:30am wandering around Piccadilly Circus looking for the correct bus stop to transfer. It was a bit frightening. Lots of men standing on litter-filled sidewalks offering rickshaw rides, drinks, asking for change, looking you up and down, reaching for your purse and pockets...finding that bus stop usurped the "most relieving moment" position. We took that bus to another stop and then, this is straight out of a movie, it started raining. It stopped about three minutes later, but still.
Anyway, we finally arrived at a bus stop from which we knew how to get to the flats and just pathetically shuffled home. We were all exhausted, cold, and hungry and just collapsed into sleep. At 6:15am.
We should have stayed at the ATAs' flats.

Lesson learned: walk fast, look forward, keep a hand on your purse, and accept hospitality. It was lovely to wake up in my own flat, in my own bed. But the morning train would have been OK too.