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Saturday Night Got A Little Out Of Hand. before/after
"This is it. Next week is next week. Fuck tomorrow. "
I spoke with a rising voice, thickened with rampant pot and booze abuse, leaning into my friends as we sat, once again, at the Purple Martini with John, just having quelled a bizzarre conflict between two pissed off guys strangely wearing almost identical Hawaiian shirts.
"We're here. We're going to get fucked up. Lets forget everything and fucking enjoy it."
I had an almost missonary zeal about me. I had been restless all week, culminating in tonight. We had swilled free beer at this ware-house party earlier where all sorts of fashion whores lurked and slouched about the place. I had not been feeling good about myself. Indeed, I had not planned on going anywhere at all, but at the last minute, rallied my karma, and marched bravely with my friends to the Chrome (?) designer handbag "opening".
We had all met there, and my eyes swam under the haze of booze, techno and the abundance of vacant, yet beautiful people swirling about me. One of the prittiest girls I've seen in a long time, wearing a tube vest, short sandy-blonde hair, greenish -blue eyes, and a perfect body squeezed tightly into form fitting zebra-striped pants rubbed her breasts on me as a conversation starter.
Of course, I failed utterly, for numerous reasons, primarily because, if my self-esteem could be scored and indexed, well, I think it might have been in negative numbers at the time. I struggled gamely on, much to the chagrin of the guy she was "with" at the ware-house.
So I rallied the troops, and we factioned apart to different venues, and john, roomie, cj, and myself ended up at the purple martini where cj started acting bizzarre while I smoked pot like there was no tomorrow. So to calm cj and finalize my thoughts of taking it to the limit of a reasonable behavior, I uttered a rallying speech in low feverish terms, full of intensity.
"All right." Roomie said,"Let's do this."
And we toasted as John sat down, followed by several waitresses.
"Okay boys, listen: We are going to DRINK tonight." John said, where-upon, as if on cue, several waitress slapped shot after shot, beer after beer on the table in the space of a minute or less, filling the entire table with galsses of all kinds of liquor.
We paused and collectively held our breath, while silently I pondered the probablitlity that I would end up in the drunk tank, victim of the opression of drunk drivers across the country. This is not good. I thought about getting loud, and rowdy, but I see where this was headed.
Well...why not?
And we lit into the drinks like vikings. As soon as the table was cleared, several waitresses filled the table once again with booze.
Fuck.
Then Dealer walks by.
Dealer is a straight-forward guy in a tough place. So he ends up selling Roomie far more than he wanted.("Here ya' go...your credits good." he says.) The first shift goes to the bathroom, while I sit with roomie.
Cassie, whom I grow more lustful for everytime I see her luscious curves, plops down next to me. I sling my arm around her, not as gracefully as I would have liked, and she snuggles into my chest. We rap for a bit, she does a random shot, and goes back to work.
Roomie and I head to the car for our shift, and upon return to the bar, John and Roomie start handing out their phone number to girls like they were the godddam telephone company. It was impressive, if not a tad desperate in appearance.
Cassie called me "baby' that night. Probably because she recognizes me, yet does not remember my name. She's not really that bright, that one, but physically...oh.
Then we left.
We split into several teams finding booze in various places as liquor cannot be sold after 12:00 at stores and 2:00 at bars, and rally back at my place.
Dealer shows up, and we all stay up until 6:40 that morning.
Now, this is the week I get my shit together, after almost being surprised that I woke up.
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