Sitting in the wrong pub is the kind of oxymoronic thing that happens sometimes.
Some years ago, during a trip to Ireland, a crowd of us were sat in the beer garden of a friends pub sinking a few cold ones.
"My round"says one of us, "gotta pop to the cash point and i'll get them in."
Off he trots, gets his cash, returns to the bar and lines up 8 pints on his tray and heads back to the garden.
Only to find that there is no garden because he has returned to the wrong pub. Doh.