Go home, drunkard!

23 04 2008

Friday night I was at the bar by myself yet again. I got there about 1830, and it was still happy hour. However, happy hour at this bar only means $1 off bottles, mixed drinks, and food.

I prefer to drink draft beer for two reasons:

1) It taste better then anything in a bottle or can.

2) It’s the one thing I can’t get at home. If I regularly had a keg at home, I’m sure draft beer at the bar would lose its appeal.

Anyway, when I rolled into the place, it was just me and this other guy at the close end of the bar. I sit in the middle where I always do, next to the plastic tubs of cherries, olives, and other garnishes. Not because I like those particular items, but because that has just become my seat.

This other guy is generally on his cell phone, talking to his wife or whoever. I find out later he is also directing some sort of construction company, and most of his calls were business related. Whatever, I really don’t care.

It’s about 8pm at some point (you know, when the clock on the wall indicated such), and this guy (Matt is his name, by the way) is wasted. He was drinking bottles of Coors Light at a pretty steady pace, but there is no way he could be that far ahead of me, unless he actually got to the bar at 5 when they opened. I’m drinking tall Michelob Ultra’s at the rate of about one every half hour to 45 minutes.

So since Matt and I have been at the bar for so long, and essentially by ourselves (nobody really came in until about 8:30, with the place filling up at 9pm with the start of Karaoke), he decides that I am his drinking buddy for the night. No problem, especially since he insists on buying all my beer from this point on.

Yeah, it’s pretty gay sounding. But whatever, it’s free beer.

So we were drinking, laughing at the Karaoke, talking about music in general. Matt is surprised that even though I am 10 years younger then him, we have similar tastes in music.

Yeah, like it’s rare to meet people with some basic knowledge of 80’s hair bands and 90’s country music.


So at about 10pm…or 11pm…I really don’t know as I’m not paying attention to the clock, Matt gets up and announces he is going to take a piss. (Apparently) Much later, some 20-something year olds come up to the bar and ask if the seat next to mine is taken. I was about to say no, but then I remembered about Matt and his need to use the restroom. I was about to say it was taken, but a 20-something girl reminded me that my buddy has been gone for about half an hour or more.

Huh, has it been that long?

So they are more then welcome to sit and stay at this point, because I figure that Matt has gone home. He took his phone and pile of cash from the bar anyway, so it’s not like I should save a seat for half a bottle of Coors Light.

It’s half empty, by the way, not half full.

Matt had already informed me that he lived across the street anyway, so wandering home in a drunken stupor seemed like the next logical step in the course of his evening.

Some more time passes, and Don, one of the bartenders, informs me that he just saw Matt in the bathroom sitting on the floor throwing up into the corner.  Nice.

Stay tuned…




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