Own only what you can carry with you; know language, know countries, know people. Let your memory be your travel bag. - Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Friday, April 09, 2010
Army Boys Throw Very Fratesque Parties
Saturday was a nice day, but I did little with the daytime. I had people coming to stay over and the apartment was badly in need of cleaning. I slept in, which was much needed, chilled, and cleaned. That was it. My guests - Melissa and Jefe - were off paragliding for a friend's birthday. Once they arrived, we drank some wine, got ready and headed over to Bless U, the most recently favoured of the hashing bars.
It turned out to be an eventful night. I was pretty much on my way to drunkeness when we headed over to I Feel Pretty's house for his goodbye party. This is where my night went downhill, as I am really bad at beer pong. In addition, I had one drink, but the glass just kept getting added to, and not with mixer. It started as some sort of jungle juice, and that was strong to begin with. Then someone dumped some sort of apple booze into it. Then, when it was almost empty, a ton of gin was dumped in. At this point, I was off seeking mixer because gin nearly straight is not my cup of tea (and frankly, adding tea might have been acceptable.) Jefe told me there was cranberry and only a bit of booze in his drink so, without looking, I dumped some in. It turned out to be beer, since he'd picked up the wrong drink. That had sufficiently drowned out the taste of the gin and so I continued to drink it.
Sure, now I hang my head in shame. At the time, I'd had so much beer playing the pong that I didn't particularly even notice the taste. There was some wandering through alleys next, and some kissing. Then there was Sam Ryan's, where I recall Jefe ordering me two drinks because it was last call. Then we went to Grand Old Opry, the country bar, and I thought I'd recalled everything, but since I really don't remember hanging out with anyone but Jefe, Melissa, and Monica but a ton of others were apparently there, I guess not. Next was Soho, so there were the inevitable Pussy Loving Cowgirl shots and dancing.
And we walked home. Sloooooowly. Very slooooowly. There might have been a stop for street food. Perhaps also one at a convience store. It was quite sunny. I ended up going on ahead of Melissa and Jefe. I suppose they fought because by the time I was tucked up in bed, she was packing and insisting she was going back to Busan. I thought she was talking crap and would just walk a block over and crash at Abigal's and to be fully honest, I was half passed out at this point, between the booze and the fact that it was like 7 a.m. Melissa chucked a bag of contact solution at Jefe's head, hilariously called him a fucking little hasher (she's one to, so it was an amusing perjorative to use), and suggested that one of us lock the door. Jefe must have done so, but all I recall is waking up later in the morning, starving.
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