The Drunken Blog

Sometimes I feel bad for sober people; the stuff they have to endure while around drunk people is staggering. The other night I got pretty wasted. I went over to my friend’s house at around 6 for a cookout; he had just gotten a new keg from a local brewery. Fresh hefeweizen – for some reason I thought it tasted like it should be a seasonal fall beer, but here’s an interesting factoid about beer - it tastes good year ’round.

I kept drinking that for the next four hours, as well as some homemade cherry porter. Basically what it equates to is before heading out for the night I was wasted. This is of course how you want to do it, because it means a lot cheaper bar tab, even though that shouldn’t have been an issue this night because we were going to my buddy’s bar.

At about 10 Daisy comes over. She says she can get us to the metro, but makes no promises about getting us home. This is acceptable, in fact, we couldn’t ask for more than that. We grab a couple of cans of Bud Light (each) for the road. Daisy is not too enthused that we start drinking in her car. If I was sober, I would probably agree with her, but as it was, I just wanted to drink more. If I was stone cold sober and I was driving to the metro, I would probably crack open a beer on the way. I mean, one beer is not enough to get you anywhere near the .08 limit, so as long as you don’t leave any open beers in the car, you’re fine. Just think of getting a citation for an open container as motivation to drink really fast.

I could already tell she was not happy, but it was nothing that getting drunk wouldn’t fix. When we get to the metro, we sit in the car and finish the beer. That’s when I noticed something a little odd. And when I say a little odd, I mean I got the same feeling that one might get if they saw somebody peeing in the parking lot. The reason that I got that same feeling is because I did in fact see somebody peeing in the parking lot. Normally when you have to pee in the parking lot, you open both doors on one side of your car and use them as shelter while you pee. This guy did no such thing. In fact, he was flaunting the fact that he was peeing since he was at one of the sides of the lot, but he was facing into the lot. He was only about 20 feet away from us and he gave us a nice view of how peeing works, something I’m familiar with, but it did give Daisy a much needed refresher course.

We had several options here. The one that would make the most sense would be to cower in the car and hope that he didn’t see us, because that could be awkward. Another option would be to get out of the car and walk away. The third option would be to honk our horn at him repeatedly. I could tell that Daisy was more leaning towards option one, and if I was sober I would have agreed with her. Unfortunately for Daisy, I was not sober, so we began honking the horn at the guy.

The expression on his face was priceless. Not because of a sheer look of embarrassment, but because he was not embarrassed at all, he was pissed off (no pun intended). He wasn’t quite sure where the honking was coming from, but he looked in the general direction (he was already facing us anyway) and he just gave us the stare of death – while still peeing. He was annoyed that we had interrupted him.

Fortunately, Daisy gave us the look of embarrassment that we were hoping to get out of the pee’er.

The actual bar experience was pretty ordinary. The only thing worth mentioning is that we got comped on all of our drinks, but since they wouldn’t take my friend’s credit card (since there was no tab) he didn’t bother to tip the bartender. We later rectified the situation, I think I gave her a $20.

After we got off the metro and started walking back towards the car, I got a feeling of déjà vu, and I thought that it would be a great idea to get another piggy back ride. This time it would be OK because I would get the piggy back ride from a girl. (I was told last time that double piggy back rides are not exempt from the gayness factor.) Of course I didn’t actually get the piggy back ride, which was probably for the best because I most likely would have crushed her if we had actually attempted it. However, a pretty compromising picture did come out of the faux attempt.

I think by this point Daisy had caught up with us in terms of drunkenness, which is good, because she probably would not have been able to withstand our shenanigans and would have left us at the bar if she was anywhere below a perceived .16 BAC.

When the cab dropped us off, it dropped us in front of a hotel, which was about a quarter mile or so away from where we actually wanted to go. I didn’t feel like walking, or rather, presented with the opportunity, I thought taking a luggage cart would be a much more efficient means of transportation home.

At first I used it like a skateboard, then I got a push and I started riding it like it was a (wind) surfboard. More than once I toppled the whole thing over by leaning too much.

Somehow we had the foresight to know that we would not be able to park this cart in front of the house, and also because we, in our 1/8th mile trip, were already board with it, decided to ditch the cart. Luckily, there was some sort of little park thing nearby about halfway to the house. I’m actually not sure what that area was, but there was a paved path, and the path went down a hill and out of view. We pushed the cart down the hill and left.

I had actually forgotten this part of the night (I’m not sure how I could forget) when I originally wrote this, but it helps to explain the scrapes that I had the next morning, which I just wrote off as an UDI.

Other posts by Justin

This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 24th, 2007 at 12:44 pm and is filed under friends, observations, alcohol . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.