Monday, June 05, 2006

Why my inner 21 year old needs to shut up

3:30 a.m. Saturday morning was not pretty.

After listening to my inner 21 year old, I made plans with Former Room Mate and two of her friends to do dinner then go out to the local bar her neighbor's band was playing in. Easy enough girls' night out, right? Woo-hoo!

Yeah, right.

Former room mate and Friend #1 started drinking wine before I arrived at Former Room mate's house. They were killing time until I got there and had heard from Friend #2. I didn't participate in the wine drinking. I was saving up for later.

Over dinner I nursed a Blue Moon beer (very yummy if you can get it). The main event was going to be later at the bar and I knew I had to pace myself. Friend #2 arrived as we were finishing up and suggested we go pre-game back at Former Room mate's house. After a quick stop for some mixers we were all about it. Rum and Coke. Red Bull and Rum. Margaritas. All consumed in short order.

With fresh drinks in our systems we putzed aroud a little bit more, talking and getting giggly as girls do with the prospect of a good night out. Eventually we made our way to the car. I was planning on driving seperately, knowing that if I knew I had driven, I wouldn't drink too much. But Friend #2 insisted we all drive in her car so I hopped in.

Big mistake.

We arrived at the bar early, about an hour before the band we were there to see went on. There were two other local bands on (Whisper and Grandview) the bill ahead of them. The five of us, we were joined by Friend of Friend #2, settled in with our first round of drinks (I decided to stick with beer) and what conversation we could have over the other bands until Hottie Next Door Neighbor's band came on.

Then we did round #2.

Then round #3.

In between round #2 and #3 I managed to "run into" Hottie Next Door Neighbor at the bar. He gave me a big hug and offered to buy me a drink. I was buying the round but (thinking myself rather clever) I told him to hold on to that idea and he could buy me one some other time. He just laughed and agreed. When he saw me he asked who else was there, I pointed to our table and he followed me over to say hi to Former Room mate and the rest of the girls. We talked, laughed and had some fun before he had to start getting set up for their portion of the gig.

To put it bluntly, they rocked. Oh god did they rock. And I'm not just saying that because by this point I had pounded four beers and a shot. No, those guys rocked the house down and, AND, AND, I (me, moi, this girl) got her very own shout out from Hottie Next Door Neighbor as well as Lead Singer.

Holy swoon Batman. As if I wasn't in love with that boy enough. At that point, Former Room mate officially dubbed me a groupie.

The boys finished up in short order. Lead Singer made his way over to the table to say hi (he actually rememberd my name from a previous meeting) and tell us all how glad he was we had come out (the weather was crappy Friday night). The other girls decided they wanted to go somewhere to dance so we took off. But not before I made it a point to say good bye to Hottie Next Door Neighbor. I wasn't passing up that opportunity and by that point I had enough alcohol in me to be bold about it.

This is where things start to go downhill.

We made our way to another bar in the area a few minutes later. I think we picked the particular bar we were in because they were in the process of having a karaoke night. The remainder is all a disjointed blur of more beer, singing Gloria Gaynor's "I will survive", being hit on by a 22 year old and almost falling down the steps. Friend #2 dragged us out at closing for the 30 minute ride home.

I was so drunk by this point it wouldn't have mattered if they put me on a slow boat to China.

Normally I don't get sick when I'm drink. I've gotten to the age where I know how to pace myself and can usually cut myself off before I get to that point. And I think I would have been fine too if it wouldn't have been for the very hilly route back to Former Room mate's house. Let's just say we pulled in, I opened the door and puked all over the parking lot. Ugh. Then I did it again just outside of her neighbor's driveway. And in the street again. And inside Former Room mate's house.

I knew I'd be better off back in my own house so after the third time I insisted on leaving. Former Room mate made me call her when I got home. She worries about me like that. Luckily there weren't many cars on the road by that time so I made it home without bouncing off of any trucks or causing more damage (there's a big white scratch on the side from the garage) to my baby. As soon as pulled in I called Former Room mate, made my way to my bed and promptly passed out.

Saturday morning, my outer 30 year out was HUNG OVER and none too pleased with her inner 21 year old.

1 comment:

George said...

All I gotta say is cool! I miss those days sometimes. I think you described most weekends I had while living in State College (except for the getting sick part). Good times for sure!