Last call, at the House of Pain, right before I ate toast and passed out on my face......
Hobbsley: So, what do you want to do?
Me: Like, with my life?
Me: Um, I don't know. I guess if I make it to 30, without going crazy, I'll figure it out then.
Hobbsley: You could always move to Europe.
The last conversation I remember having before we paid up and left the pub....
Me: OK, you have my number, and I have yours, we should totally get together sometime.
Chuck: (friend from elementary school, who I ran into while ordering a drink) Yes, you better phone me or else, you crazy bitch. (laughs)
Chuck's friend: He won't call you, he's just drunk.
Chuck: (to his friend) Yes I will call her you bitch! I went to school with her, and I haven't seen her in years!
Chuck's friend: Don't listen to him, he's just a crazy drunk, he always says he's gonna call people!
Me: Well, I'm sure we'll run into each other at some point, I'm not very good at calling people either!
Chuck: Ok, we're leaving to go home, we're drunk. Next time I see you, I'll have to introduce you to my boyfriend!
Chuck: Ya, we're getting married this summer.
Chuck's friend: OK honey, we gotta go, I gotta get this crazy fag home!
After one beer, I had to break the seal already.....
I open the door to the bathroom, and all the taps turn on, and off, in sequence.
I look under all the stall doors, and nobody else is in there.
Me: I just gotta pee, and I'm outta here.
I leave the bathroom, and find the barkeep.
Me: Hey ____, is there something wrong with the sensors on the taps? Do they just turn on on their own sometimes?
Barkeep: No, what are you talking about?
Me: Seriously? You're not fucking with me? Because I just walked in and they all turned on, one at a time, and then turned off, one at a time. I almost shit my pants.
Barkeep: Well, at least you were in the right place to do so.
And those are about the only things I remember from last night with any clarity. Sure, it was a good night, but never again, am I going to say "I'm going for a beer with The Unknown Poet, and then I'm coming home. Should be home in an hour or so."
One beer in the afternoon, after a day of work, always seems to lead to 8 hours of ridiculous-ness. From now on, I'm going to say "I'm going out to get shit-faced, and I'll be back on Sunday." Then, I really will be home in an hour.
Last night, really was great though. Good vibes surrounded us.