Sunday, March 14, 2010

I ain't gonna bump no more with no big fat Irish man

I say the same thing every time I drink too much: I'M NEVER DRINKING AGAIN! The last time I said it, I meant it. I would go out with my girls and get offered drinks and politely turn them down. I think I was subconsciously waiting on something grand. Something significant. SOMETHING MAGNIFICENT! Chicago's St. Patrick's Day Celebration.

I have never celebrated St. Patrick's Day. Well there was that one time in the 4th grade, but that's neither here nor there. Last night's celebration didn't consist of green pieces of candy and children's drawings of leprechauns. No! Last night was all about getting drunk, and the small percentage of Irish blood in my system felt a need to give into temptation. After my first drink (a sex on the beach) my night became a quest for fun.

At some point this song began to play and I danced my ass from the bar to the middle of the randomly placed dance floor. I remember having one drink in my hand that magically grew legs and became my dance partner. Me and my drink cut a rug on the randomly placed dance floor and before I knew it my imagination waived and a human brewery was dancing with me. This human smelled of beer and sweat. I didn't like the way he smelled at all, but I liked the way he danced. He had some kind of schizo jigg/Justin Timberlake thing going on. I don't know...just weird, but memorable dancing. Once the song ended, I got a good look at him. This man was huge. I'm talking HUGE! He looked like a product of Kathy Bates and John Goodman love making. Huge!

The next song that came on must have been his jam, because he flung me around and we did the bump. I'm assuming the bump was the only synchronized dance that he could master because he did it well. He did it so well that he bumped my ass back to a bar where a nice (and smaller) man was waiting with a can of beer (It was sealed people. Calm down!). I'm not a fan of light beer but it was free. I drank the beer in one big gulp and danced to another song.

Meanwhile, my girl (who shall remain nameless) was sitting pretty while she chatted up a Nigerian and a Samoan. They were two handsome men and every girl had their eyes on them. However, I didn't notice them until I had to check on my girl. The Samoan was too precious for words. He said that he wasn't Samoan, but I knew he was. I even asked him if he had any relation to The Rock or Leonard Peters; he said no with a smile that lit up the dark bar. I was in love. Not lust, infatuation, or intrigue. I was in L-O-V-E and I didn't even know his name.

My girl and I spent the rest of our time at the bar with these two gentlemen, but it started to get a little crowded. I needed my space and I didn't care how cute these guys were, I was leaving. I left the bar to enter another just a few paces north of the last. Now if the last bar was crowded this new one was stifling. I’m pretty sure the establishment was packed passed the legal limit, but the bouncer let us in anyway. I, of course, went straight to the bar and my friend stayed sitting pretty in the corner.

This bar wasn’t as exciting as the last, but since I’m easily amused, I found a way to entertain myself. There was another big man at this bar. However, this one was wearing a suit. I boldly asked him why was he wearing his church clothes to the bar, and he quickly answered, “I’m engaged!” I still don’t remember asking him any questions about his relationship status, but I made sure he knew that I was very happy for him.

Moving on…the scene at the bar was getting tired, so my friend and I decided to head back to the original bar. The Nigerian and the Samoan were waiting in the same spot my friend had left them. At the time it was cute, but now that I reflect, it’s a little sad. Why in the world would anyone go out just to sit in one spot? But whatever, there they sat and there we went. We spent the rest of the night in this bar that slowly began to smell like shit. Apparently some lady decided she couldn’t wait until she got home to let it go, so she went at the bar. I guess that’s okay, but I know it’s not very lady like.

The night ended and so did my drunken haze; it was time to eat. Eating after a night out is always difficult to do. It seems like the one place where I would love to eat at, is always the place that’s ridiculously packed. It was like being in the bar all over again. However, when I looked up we had new company. The Samoan and Nigerian were nowhere in sight. We were now accompanied by Nigerian #2 and his “Wentworth Miller knock-off” friend. They claimed they wanted to make sure we got to our destination safely, so they followed us everywhere. Unlike most following situations, I wasn’t annoyed by our company. I enjoyed their stories of what their night consisted of and laughed at their jokes. They were real gentlemen and did exactly what they told us they would.

I’m not sure if the following chain of events were me giving into temptation or peer pressure, but I ended up driving those two home. I surely didn’t want to do it, but it was done. Sure! I was given $10 for the kind gesture, a phone number, and a following day phone call (from someone…I didn’t answer), but I’m not a cabbie. Ugh! That’s kind of a huge turn off.

My point behind this post is to show how different your life can be from year to year. I posted a story about how I was almost arrested in front of my home on the same day but different year. That was a scary experience that I never want to relive. I didn’t know that was going to happen, just like I didn’t know last tonight was going to happen. I made a decision that night (or maybe a little later…I’m not trying to be deep) to make sure I live my life to the fullest. The world is filled with crazies wanting to stop you and your happiness, and worrying about those people can be hazardous to your lifestyle and your happiness. So I say: FUCK THEM! Who are they? No one has the right to stop you but you. Live your life to the fullest; you never know what might happen.