It's St. Patrick's Day Saturday in Chicago, perhaps one of the drunkest messes you will ever see. You know how I spent it this year? Mrs. Noisewater and I to our kiddo to his swim class, then a baby cafe to kill time until his music class. Then home for a nap for all three of us. That was all before 12pm. But people on this day and in this town get to the bar at 7AM to get started with the festivities. When I participated in that sort of thing I made it a point, no, a rule, to not even leave the house until 5pm when all the kegs and eggs early shift folks had already thrown up and passed out. It actually was a great day to go for a jog and have a few laughs, and of course, you had to be hyper vigilant to avoid stepping in puke.
Only one year did I go out for the 7AM shift. Another rule I have is not going to any bar with an Irish name because it will just be packed with douche bags, and why wait in line for an American bar that happens to have an Irish name? So yeah, I broke the starting way too early and the "Irish" bar rule. I was destined for a bad night. I also had this idea in my head that if I drank mixed drinks I would sip them really slow and not get too drunk too early.
Fast forward to me blind drunk before noon. The hard liquor theorem had been disproven beyond any reasonable doubt. I was dating a girl at the time whom every one of my friends and family pretty much hated. She really was evil when I look back on it. Deep down I knew it too, but I fooled myself into thinking it was a matter of me changing to try to make her happy. Or in this case of this day it was a matter of fighting with her all day long and tipping back way too much booze in frustration.
Fast forward yet again to around 4pm and our whole crew was getting separated because we were all practically sleep walking. I found myself playing beer pong with strangers, breaking a third rule of never playing drinking games in my 30's. My partner was a very friendly and pretty Asian Indian girl. I remember thinking, oh yeah, girls are a hell of a lot more fun when they're charming, friendly, and they aren't making a point of trying demean me and make me miserable. I was so bombed that when the girlfriend at the time found me, I didn't even stop flirting with the new gal I met. This may have been a mistake on my end, but I barely even knew my name by this point.
Fast forward a third time to around 8pm and I'm dancing. I didn't do a lot of dancing by this stage of my life, so if I was I was either at a wedding or blasted beyond belief. Every so often I would see this guy trying to dance with my girl. Eventually I told him, "Hey, I think it's time you fucked off." I thought this would do the trick, but he kept coming back. Each time I would get madder to the point where I said, "You really do need to get out of here before I kick your ass." What? I don't kick people's asses. Who was this guy saying this? Then we are in each other's faces, and it is me who says "Well, let's step outside then." Step outside??!? I have no idea how to fight and I had been drinking for like 12 hours. I would have been lucky to have punched a wall successfully. But it was too late. I had said it and we were walking outside to have ourselves a fight. Suddenly security swept in. I was being thrown out. I was saved! But they only took the dude out and let my drunk ass stay. Seemed strange, but it turned out a gal in our crew was sitting back and observing everything take place and had security remove him. I really do owe her a drink the next time I see her for saving me from a certain ass whooping and possible arrest.
It was not until weeks later that someone told me that my lady friend at the time was baiting that dancing fellow back into the fold time and time again. Now I get it. The guy was getting the signals, she was hot, and how can you even be mad at the guy knowing that? And I pretty much set myself up with my behavior earlier in the evening right? It was jus a crazy-ass night.
My son just woke up so I gotta run. Hey, moral of the story, don't drink all damn day. There's no point. After that 10th or 12th hour you're not even yourself anymore. I think that is why you see all those domestic calls coming in on holidays where people drink too much. It's those double-shift drinkers who have become some drunken jerk they would hate if they could see it. So that's my public service announcement.
Tip one back, my friends. But be safe. And know when to punch out of that shift.
(No proofreading at all so hopefully will get a chance to do that soon)