First off, happy whatever-the-Hell-you-want-to-call-today and thanks to those who wished me something similar.
So yes, I stayed in Augusta a bit longer than expected. Unfortunately, I was not distracted by sex and espionage. I was sick. The little hitchhiker went gangbusters on me. By Friday morning, I was a feverish, unkempt and unwashed mess. If you throw in a bottle of absinthe, I would have been quite the trendsetter in 1890's Paris.
Just as I was expecting Jesus to call and rescind my designation as "moderately cute," the phone rang. It wasn't Jesus. It was Thomas. (the med student, not the disciple) A couple of our friends were going to lunch, and he wanted to invite me. The prospect of hanging out with friends perked me up a bit. Eating helped a bit , too.
Then Thomas asked if I was going out with everyone that night. Just as I was about to cough my response, he reminded me that it was his birthday celebration. (bastard guilt-merchant!!) Eventually I folded.
The evening began with pizza and pre-drink. Several of us then went downtown to meet several more and begin a pub crawl. However, we had a slight problem explaining the concept of "one bar, one drink" to a majority of our group, so the evening all but ground to a halt. Even my description of the next bar as a "chill martini bar with a 40 meter hallway that came right out of a meth nightmare" did nothing to motivate the majority.
Nothing seemed to be going according to plan. I even offered to pay for half of Thomas' first tattoo (if he got it right then), but that fizzled out at the ink shop counter. (Yeah, it's probably a good thing that didn't happen.) So the night trickled on in semi-sober limbo until we made it to the last bar.
I actually started enjoying myself, again. After a few drinks, Thomas, Mike and I started playing our traditional round of video game golf. Once we added the usual distractions of thrown cigarettes, mimed sodomy, and sporadic violence, we were having a great time. Then something upset the balance.
A female friend of ours whispered to me that a stranger was making her and another female friend very uncomfortable while our backs were turned. She asked me if I could do something about it. No, I didnt threaten him. That would have put me in the wrong as well. I decided to have some fun with him. I introduced myself pretending to be more intoxicated than I was. I then began to indirectly belittle the Hell out of him. If he ignored me, I persisted. If he tried to talk to one of my friend-girls, I got between them. (Hurray for cock-blocking!!) When he began to get pissed and focus on me, I dismissed him and returned to my game. After 3 or 4 repeats, he had forgotten about the girl. Phase I was over. Now I had to push him over the top. Explaining in a slow, loud voice where Ireland was seemed to do the trick. (Its a little west of England. See, what you do is you go to England. Then you go west. Its the first island.)
He seemed to take offense to this impromptu geography lesson and began to tell me I wasnt a real American while poking me in the chest. I suddenly sobered up. I grabbed his finger and told him that if he touched me again, he was going to jail. His friend tried to pull him away. I told him that he should listen to his friend. He resisted. Then I told his friend that the guy had been bothering our friend-girls and he could either walk his buddy out of the bar or carry him out. The guy heard this and tried to push past his friend to get to me. The bouncer saw this and intervened. Phase II was a success!!
The bouncer then kicked the two emotional drunks out of the bar. The girls thanked me and everyone laughed their asses off. The other bouncers and bartenders who knew us also laughed when they heard the story. At the end of the night, no punches were thrown and Grabby McSlapass got embarrassed and tossed into the street.
So yes, I stayed in Augusta a bit longer than expected. Unfortunately, I was not distracted by sex and espionage. I was sick. The little hitchhiker went gangbusters on me. By Friday morning, I was a feverish, unkempt and unwashed mess. If you throw in a bottle of absinthe, I would have been quite the trendsetter in 1890's Paris.
Just as I was expecting Jesus to call and rescind my designation as "moderately cute," the phone rang. It wasn't Jesus. It was Thomas. (the med student, not the disciple) A couple of our friends were going to lunch, and he wanted to invite me. The prospect of hanging out with friends perked me up a bit. Eating helped a bit , too.
Then Thomas asked if I was going out with everyone that night. Just as I was about to cough my response, he reminded me that it was his birthday celebration. (bastard guilt-merchant!!) Eventually I folded.
The evening began with pizza and pre-drink. Several of us then went downtown to meet several more and begin a pub crawl. However, we had a slight problem explaining the concept of "one bar, one drink" to a majority of our group, so the evening all but ground to a halt. Even my description of the next bar as a "chill martini bar with a 40 meter hallway that came right out of a meth nightmare" did nothing to motivate the majority.
Nothing seemed to be going according to plan. I even offered to pay for half of Thomas' first tattoo (if he got it right then), but that fizzled out at the ink shop counter. (Yeah, it's probably a good thing that didn't happen.) So the night trickled on in semi-sober limbo until we made it to the last bar.
I actually started enjoying myself, again. After a few drinks, Thomas, Mike and I started playing our traditional round of video game golf. Once we added the usual distractions of thrown cigarettes, mimed sodomy, and sporadic violence, we were having a great time. Then something upset the balance.
A female friend of ours whispered to me that a stranger was making her and another female friend very uncomfortable while our backs were turned. She asked me if I could do something about it. No, I didnt threaten him. That would have put me in the wrong as well. I decided to have some fun with him. I introduced myself pretending to be more intoxicated than I was. I then began to indirectly belittle the Hell out of him. If he ignored me, I persisted. If he tried to talk to one of my friend-girls, I got between them. (Hurray for cock-blocking!!) When he began to get pissed and focus on me, I dismissed him and returned to my game. After 3 or 4 repeats, he had forgotten about the girl. Phase I was over. Now I had to push him over the top. Explaining in a slow, loud voice where Ireland was seemed to do the trick. (Its a little west of England. See, what you do is you go to England. Then you go west. Its the first island.)
He seemed to take offense to this impromptu geography lesson and began to tell me I wasnt a real American while poking me in the chest. I suddenly sobered up. I grabbed his finger and told him that if he touched me again, he was going to jail. His friend tried to pull him away. I told him that he should listen to his friend. He resisted. Then I told his friend that the guy had been bothering our friend-girls and he could either walk his buddy out of the bar or carry him out. The guy heard this and tried to push past his friend to get to me. The bouncer saw this and intervened. Phase II was a success!!
The bouncer then kicked the two emotional drunks out of the bar. The girls thanked me and everyone laughed their asses off. The other bouncers and bartenders who knew us also laughed when they heard the story. At the end of the night, no punches were thrown and Grabby McSlapass got embarrassed and tossed into the street.
Here's my reply to your email, which didn't come with a return address: "My dog also took my SAT! You're welcome
I'll send it through your SG profile...but for some reason it never ends up in the persons inbox. So let me know if you get it at your email!