Archive for December, 2006
Ever notice how drinking a little too much is pretty much the same thing as drinking way too much? I’ve noticed. Most recently on Friday night.
I’d taken the day off from work and–along with ‘Shank–occupied myself with playing Bully on the PS2. At about 4:30, we–figuratively–saddled up and headed towards downtown for the hockey game. Why so early? One reason: happy hour at Friday’s in West End. We’ve been occasionally stopping by there before games for $4 Long Island Iced Teas and, as a result, have gotten to know the bartender, a sassy, possibly-lesbian Chicana named Belen.
And we all know what happens when you get to know a bartender…they start making your drinks stronger. Several LITs later and we were lit. Game time was approaching and we needed to be there for the puck drop. Somehow, we made it from West End to the American Airlines Center unscathed. After stumbling our way to our seats and singing along to–rather badly–to “O Canada”, we had the bright idea–at the time–to get more alcohol. Two beers and two periods later, we could barely stand up. An executive decision was made to leave the game at the start of the third period. All I remember about exiting the AAC was–at one point–falling down a flight of stairs. I was ahead of ‘Shank and he said when he rounded the corner, all he saw was me at the bottom of the stairs sprawled out like I was dead. I fought my way to my feet and continued down the stairs. At one point, ‘Shank and I both decided it’d be a good idea to smash a flourescent light fixture. I don’t really remember doing so, but we both had cuts on our hands the next day to prove it.
Walking to the car turned into an adventure. What normally would’ve been a 10-minute walk somehow turned into a sojourn of at least half-an-hour. All I really remember about the walk to the car was ducking down into the garage at the W to piss. The next thing I know, we’re in ‘Shank’s Blazer, half asleep. As I lay there, reclined in the passenger seat, my drunken semi-sleep was broken by the sound of a window rolling down, followed by a gurgled heaving sound…a sound that I immediate recognized–thanks to hundreds of parties during my university years–as someone vomiting. That someone was ‘Shank. For some reason that I can’t quite fathom, my alcohol-addled mind decided it would be a good idea to jump out of the car and run around to the driver’s side to watch ‘Shank puke. Normally, were I not drunk, this would make me gag–and possibly throw up a bit myself, but my inebriation prevent this as I watched him throw up down the side of his truck.
That’s when it suddenly occurred to me that the parking lot was empty…somehow we’d both passed out long enough for the game to be over and for everyone to leave. All that were left were people going to the West End. It also occurred to me that I had to piss again. So I did the only logical thing–I wandered around to the passenger side of ‘Shank’s truck and proceeded to piss on the side of it.
I wonder what we looked like to the people walking by–’Shank puking on one side of his Blazer and me peeing on the other. I imagine it was quite humorous.
Goddamn, we’re a couple of fuck-ups.