I had one of those nights I wish I had a film crew following me. Or maybe I don't wish that? Maybe a personal film crew that I hired myself who wouldn't make copies of the tape and distribute it via amazon or You Tube but would hand the only copy over to me for my own private viewing?Also they wouldn't require payment, just hanging out with me filming was payment enough. But of course the film crew would have to somehow have the technology to record my inner dialogue, or I would have to have long out-loud conversations with myself.
Guys, stop getting me off topic.
I've pieced my night together from:
Kat offered to drive. First though, we were meeting a friend of hers at another bar about 6 blocks away. Ok so we will split the difference and park in the middle and walk to each bar from the middle point, her civic.
The first bar mixed a strong and cheap drink.
And another one.
And maybe another? Sure why not. Ok!
Walking on to the next bar, for the reason I am actually there, my job, overseeing the event. Does it count as overseeing the event if everything I am seeing is a little blurry? Nah, it's not me, it's them, they must be vibrating while they're standing or something, I am fine. I should figure out how to vibrate while I stand. Neat trick guys!
So we've established that the time at BAR 2 was a blur, interrupted only by shots, vodka, a drink that tasted like that plastic cone treat with the gumb ball at the bottom you get from the ice cream truck, more shots, more shots, oohhh I like this song, vodka, several conversations that I can't remember, yelling at a guy to stop touching me, lights ON, and one more shot for the road.
And time to walk to our car. Walking...walking...walking, hey stop following us....walking...walking, you're still following us? Walking....hey do you remember where we parked?
Now is a good time to mention that when I am a passenger, I don't pay attention to where I am headed, I just enjoy the ride.
Of course I don't know where we parked, you drove, let's keep walking, it has to turn up. So we walk. I took my heels off at one point to make the walk more tolerable, they were Jessica Simpson brand, and lets be honest they share qualities with J Simps herself, they're really cute to look at but after hanging out with them too long you want to shoot yourself.
At some point the facebook posts of "HELP IM LOST" began. And the banter- and the revelation that, shoe-less, I stepped on a dead sparrow (at least I got to face my lifelong fear of touching dead things). I spoke to Kat's friend in another state on the phone to process stepping on the dead sparrow, he couldn't console me about that and couldn't help us find the car either. Useless.
I decided we were now street dwellers. There were so many skills I didn't know yet, but would have to learn if I now lived on the streets, and if I lived on the streets then I would be home by now. Makes sense, no?
The bar owner made the mistake of texting me which led to at least an hour of back and forth texts mainly with me just spelling HELP in capital letters and him telling me to come back to the bar so they can help me. The bar was where all this trouble started, no way I'm going back there.
More wandering.
Our situation is hopeless.
Kat lost the contents of her purse.
Collectively we lost our dignity.
I'm so sad we live on the street now.
Look! Driving towards us! It's hope! A cab! We could have asked the cab driver to drive us home. We could have asked him to drive us anywhere....but we were not giving up on this car. We had come so far. Lived a lifetime on those streets. Cab driver, drive us around so we can find our car! So he drove. Kat clicked her panic button. Twenty dollars later, there's our car! Please just take us home, I have a sales meeting in 4 hours.
There are several morals to this story, but the one that really hit home from me is this:
buy expensive tights. After all that my HUE brand tights, not a hole in them. My leg ripped, but my tights, still intact. If it wasn't for those tights, I may have broken a leg.
Guys, stop getting me off topic.
I've pieced my night together from:
- Personal accounts of people present
- Facebooks posts
- Text messages
- The condition of my feet, skin, hair, tights.
- The contents of my purse
Kat offered to drive. First though, we were meeting a friend of hers at another bar about 6 blocks away. Ok so we will split the difference and park in the middle and walk to each bar from the middle point, her civic.
The first bar mixed a strong and cheap drink.
And another one.
And maybe another? Sure why not. Ok!
Walking on to the next bar, for the reason I am actually there, my job, overseeing the event. Does it count as overseeing the event if everything I am seeing is a little blurry? Nah, it's not me, it's them, they must be vibrating while they're standing or something, I am fine. I should figure out how to vibrate while I stand. Neat trick guys!
So we've established that the time at BAR 2 was a blur, interrupted only by shots, vodka, a drink that tasted like that plastic cone treat with the gumb ball at the bottom you get from the ice cream truck, more shots, more shots, oohhh I like this song, vodka, several conversations that I can't remember, yelling at a guy to stop touching me, lights ON, and one more shot for the road.
And time to walk to our car. Walking...walking...walking, hey stop following us....walking...walking, you're still following us? Walking....hey do you remember where we parked?
Now is a good time to mention that when I am a passenger, I don't pay attention to where I am headed, I just enjoy the ride.
Of course I don't know where we parked, you drove, let's keep walking, it has to turn up. So we walk. I took my heels off at one point to make the walk more tolerable, they were Jessica Simpson brand, and lets be honest they share qualities with J Simps herself, they're really cute to look at but after hanging out with them too long you want to shoot yourself.
At some point the facebook posts of "HELP IM LOST" began. And the banter- and the revelation that, shoe-less, I stepped on a dead sparrow (at least I got to face my lifelong fear of touching dead things). I spoke to Kat's friend in another state on the phone to process stepping on the dead sparrow, he couldn't console me about that and couldn't help us find the car either. Useless.
I decided we were now street dwellers. There were so many skills I didn't know yet, but would have to learn if I now lived on the streets, and if I lived on the streets then I would be home by now. Makes sense, no?
The bar owner made the mistake of texting me which led to at least an hour of back and forth texts mainly with me just spelling HELP in capital letters and him telling me to come back to the bar so they can help me. The bar was where all this trouble started, no way I'm going back there.
More wandering.
Our situation is hopeless.
Kat lost the contents of her purse.
Collectively we lost our dignity.
I'm so sad we live on the street now.
Look! Driving towards us! It's hope! A cab! We could have asked the cab driver to drive us home. We could have asked him to drive us anywhere....but we were not giving up on this car. We had come so far. Lived a lifetime on those streets. Cab driver, drive us around so we can find our car! So he drove. Kat clicked her panic button. Twenty dollars later, there's our car! Please just take us home, I have a sales meeting in 4 hours.
There are several morals to this story, but the one that really hit home from me is this:
ALWAYS
ALWAYS
buy expensive tights. After all that my HUE brand tights, not a hole in them. My leg ripped, but my tights, still intact. If it wasn't for those tights, I may have broken a leg.
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