To Joe's!

Last night around 10pm I left the house. I just wanted to go downtown to the ATM, grab a coffee and a cigar, and walk home. I wasn’t really feeling anything in the air—it didn’t seem like a crazy night—so I wasn’t in the mood to party.

Just to make sure, I walked past all the bars and took a peek inside. Yep, just as I thought, they were pretty empty. I started to feel pretty good about my decision to make it a mellow night, and I whistled a little tune as I walked home.

I finished my cigar just as I was walking up the steps to my apartment. The robusto size is perfectly timed for a walk home, nothing wasted. I fished my keys out of my pocket and swung the door open.

Hmmm… I think I’ll leave the door open. It’s a beautiful night and I’d like to get some air in this place. I put on my oh-so-comfortable lounging clothes (Old Navy shorts and an oversized t-shirt) and sat down at my computer to write.

I leisurely finished my coffee and wrote for fun (see last night’s posting). I could hear the sounds of drunk people already at 11:30pm. My neighbors were blasting Guns ‘n Roses again, and the girls were screaming “whoooooooooooa sweet child o’ miiiiiiiiiine” at the top of their lungs. I briefly considered going over to say hello when my cell phone rang.

It’s Kellie. She’s on her way down to Joe’s with Janden, Steve, and Hillary. OK, this sounds pretty good. Janden and Hillary are always entertaining. They love to drink more than I do. OK, sure I’ll meet you down there.

By this time it’s almost midnight. I know I’ve got to get down to Joe’s with the quickness or I’ll have to wait in line. I throw on the clothes I was wearing earlier, put some goop in my hair, and scoot down to Joe’s.

I get there just in time. I beat the line and get inside without a wait. My favorite bartendress is working, and I get a Heineken over the crowd. She wears a shit-eating grin as she scoops her $5 tip off the counter, and everyone wonders why the tall guy 3 rows back got a drink before they did. I head outside.

Everyone but Janden is here. I talk for awhile to Steve about the usual stuff—guns and politics. I really want to talk to Hillary, but she’s sandwiched between Kellie and some other girls. I suggest we all move to the table in the corner, and strategically place myself between Kellie and Hillary.

Hillary is a damn cool chick. She was once so drunk she had to be put on a pedicab (half mountain bike, half carriage) home. She cussed out the driver the whole way, a stream of expletives fading off into the distance. She likes to surround herself with trustworthy friends so she can get pissy, blackout drunk. She’s a riot.

Janden arrives on the scene, in style. He’s so hammered it’s unbelievable. He hits on every girl as he makes his way back to our table, and strikes out every time. When he gets close he takes a running start and JUMPS up on our table. He lifts up his shirt and massages his nipple, and shakes his hips in a lame Shakira impression. The whole patio erupts into cheering and laughter, which only eggs him on. He knocks over a few drinks and then sits down.

By this time we’re all suitably drunk. As usual Steve clams up. When he drinks too much he doesn’t speak. He just sits there, pretty quiet, and sways until it’s time to fall over and sleep. I am not like that when I’m drunk. I gesticulate wildly with my hands and slur my words. You can’t shut me up. Janden and I decide it’s time to kick it up a notch.

The 3 of us head to the bar and order a round of shots. Can you guess what we had? Can you? I slam my empty shot glass down on the bar top and yell in my best piratey voice, “ARRR!” Janden has that look in his eyes like he wants to double up. Fine with me, let’s do it. We do another round of Captain Morgan’s and then another. It won’t be long now.

It’s 1:30am and the bar is closing, so we all stumble outside.

Who said pizza? Damn that’s a great idea. We walk down to Franky’s walk-up window and each get a slice of the most delicious pizza on the planet. Who said more booze? That is a fantastic idea. The girls take a pedicab back to Kellie’s apartment, and the three boys are left to walk.

Steve disappears into the bushes to relieve himself. Janden is swaying, bumping into me every 3 seconds. Hey where is Steve? We wait. And wait. And wait.

“Pedicab!” We climb aboard and start to abuse the driver. Janden is dragging his shoes on the ground to make the poor guy pedal harder. I’m trying to get him to behave. I think I hear a girl shout my name, so I turn around and look behind me. As I do this I promptly fall out of the pedicab. Janden is dancing around me, pointing and laughing his ass off. I’m so drunk I don’t feel a thing.

A few minutes later we’re back at Kellie’s house. Kellie is pissed we left her boyfriend, Steve, behind yet again. She goes to look for him, and we raid the booze. Where is Hillary? Hillary passed out on the pedicab ride home, so Kellie took her home and put her to bed.

Janden and I put on some music and go out on the balcony. Kellie and Steve get back a few moments later. Kellie puts Steve’s drunk ass to bed and joins us on the balcony.

The 3 of us stay up for a few more hours chatting, smoking, and drinking. My buzz is starting to wear off. I think I see the sky starting to get a little light. I look down at my watch. Oh shit, it’s 5am. I say my goodbyes and start the long walk home.

The air is still. It is sooo quiet. Nobody is driving anywhere at this time of day, so I walk down the middle of the street with impunity. I look up and see a clear night sky full of stars. Every time I do this I think about how nice and clear and relatively pollution-free it is up here. In SoCal you can’t see shit for stars. Up here there are so many it’s amazing.

I love this time of night/morning. It almost feels like you’re breaking the rules, like you’re doing something bad. You’re not supposed to stay up all night partying, and walk home as the sun is coming up. ESPECIALLY when you’re 32 years old. I feel very alert and awake, but most importantly I feel fucking alive.

I grin the whole way home.