Wednesday, August 09, 2006
A Day In The Life Of Bo (Part Two)...
I get to BW3's and order a beer. Currin, Rex, and Kate are eating, but I'm not hungry...I'll eat later. After playing some video trivia and having a couple drinks we make plans for the rest of the evening. We leave the bar and I stop by Blair's so he can drop his car off before we head to Rex and Currin's. When Blair and I arrive at the Delta House we have a few more beers and watch part of the movie "Gladiator" with Cuba Gooding Jr. Kapowski shows up and we decide to WALK to Stanley's pub to see a band from UD play. This little stroll lasts about 25 minutes and I'm beat by the time we get down there...but it could be worse, I could have worn wooden shoes like Kapowski did.
As we approach the pub we see a news van and a reporter across the street. We walk into a completely silent bar, everyone's attention towards the small television in the upper corner. The reporter across the street is doing a live report about the arrest of a man that shot a guy at Stanley's last week. It's somber, but when the report is over it's swept to the back of everyone's minds and we commence merriment. The band's not bad, but after a while we take our drinks and head out to the back. Many spirits later we're reminiscing about the good old days of UD...where we liked to eat, stupid shit we did, etc. It's getting late, Currin's getting digits, and I talk to Q about heading over to his place for a little flip-cup...at the time, this sounds like a phenomenal idea. We walk out of the bar and begin the trek home. This time it takes a little longer because we're basically walking uphill the entire way and by the time we get back to Mt. Lookout Square, Kapowski and I are the only ones still committed to partaking in competitions of ale. She's only had a few drinks so she drives to Oakley.
On the way I mention that I haven't eaten and that maybe we should get McDonalds on the way back to the square tonight. It's agreed and we park the car, walking to Q's neighbor's house. There's about 20 people in the back yard when we arrive and we are immediately thrown into a game of flip-cup. Game ends, my team wins (as usual), I'm extremely drunk but keeping my composure...noone realizes this. I try to take a break but cries of Survivor Flip Cup begin. Kapowski has never played so I explain the rules and before I know it the game has begun. Round after round, my team falls and players are "voted off the island." Q and I are the only ones left, we've both been one-sip-one-flip all night. The seven cups that began with seven players are now all lined up in front of the two of us...our opponents still have five players. Q's drinking and flipping 4, I'm drinking and flipping 3. Then, in a comeback rivaled only by John Elway, Q and I sweep the rest of the game. Kapowski holds her own, but in the end Alicia is standing alone with 7 cups in front of her and we take her down. Game Over. Belly full. Head beginning to swim. The party dissipates and Q invites everyone to his place to continue the drinking. The fact that I have not eaten is never more prevalent than it is right now. We begin walking across the street and I find that my equilibrium is completely fucked. I lean against Kapowski and utter the fact that it's probably in everyone's best interest that she and I leave now...then the night becomes a little fuzzy.
The rest of this story is a mix of blurred memories and first hand accounts from others. Apparently...APPARENTLY...we walk to the car and I decide to "relieve myself" in a bush in someone's front yard. We get in the car and begin to roll...so does my stomach. I remember telling Kapowski to pull over, and I remember nothing but beer exiting my system in dramatic fashion on the curb out the car door. Close the door, we start again, I begin to pass out but am wrenched from my slumber with cries to pull over again...more beer makes it's exodus. Kapowski finally gets back to my apartment...dry heaving out the car door ensues. She tells me we're back at my place and attempts to help me out of the car...not happening. I find that my legs will not allow me to make that 50 ft. walk and decide that it would be best if I just slept in the car. Obviously, Kapowski was having none of this and became insistent that she was not going to let me pass out in a car in 90 degree weather...the nerve. The bars in the square let out and fellow booze hounds walk down my street to find their vehicles. A few stop to see if I'm okay (as I'm half hanging out the car door and arguing with Kapowski) and more stop to make fun of the drunk asshole...don't blame them. Then I drift off again.
The next thing I know, I hear the voices of two of my best friends. Kapowski had called Leash and Q and they had driven to my apartment to help her move my dumb ass. There's no point struggling or arguing with these two...they're not going to let me get away with being an asshole. Each of them takes an arm and leads me to my apartment like a drunken frosh during homecoming. I remember being waaaay embarrassed...both for my debauchery, and for the fact that my apartment is in complete and utter disarray. I let them know that I'm okay, thank them, and they head out. Why Kapowski doesn't kick my ass once they're gone I will never know...but she doesn't. I find my way to the bedroom and crash in my clothes...
Funny that a day that started with such excitement and hope, ended soooo poorly...but it could have been much worse. Fact is, although I thanked Q, Leash, and Kapowski...it wasn't enough. The response was consistently, "Hey, you'd do it for us," and I would (and have on a few occasions) but it's still good to know that I have friends who will stop what they're doing just to save me from myself. No greater gift than that. Thanks again you guys...I owe you.
Much, MUCH, Love,
Bo
As we approach the pub we see a news van and a reporter across the street. We walk into a completely silent bar, everyone's attention towards the small television in the upper corner. The reporter across the street is doing a live report about the arrest of a man that shot a guy at Stanley's last week. It's somber, but when the report is over it's swept to the back of everyone's minds and we commence merriment. The band's not bad, but after a while we take our drinks and head out to the back. Many spirits later we're reminiscing about the good old days of UD...where we liked to eat, stupid shit we did, etc. It's getting late, Currin's getting digits, and I talk to Q about heading over to his place for a little flip-cup...at the time, this sounds like a phenomenal idea. We walk out of the bar and begin the trek home. This time it takes a little longer because we're basically walking uphill the entire way and by the time we get back to Mt. Lookout Square, Kapowski and I are the only ones still committed to partaking in competitions of ale. She's only had a few drinks so she drives to Oakley.
On the way I mention that I haven't eaten and that maybe we should get McDonalds on the way back to the square tonight. It's agreed and we park the car, walking to Q's neighbor's house. There's about 20 people in the back yard when we arrive and we are immediately thrown into a game of flip-cup. Game ends, my team wins (as usual), I'm extremely drunk but keeping my composure...noone realizes this. I try to take a break but cries of Survivor Flip Cup begin. Kapowski has never played so I explain the rules and before I know it the game has begun. Round after round, my team falls and players are "voted off the island." Q and I are the only ones left, we've both been one-sip-one-flip all night. The seven cups that began with seven players are now all lined up in front of the two of us...our opponents still have five players. Q's drinking and flipping 4, I'm drinking and flipping 3. Then, in a comeback rivaled only by John Elway, Q and I sweep the rest of the game. Kapowski holds her own, but in the end Alicia is standing alone with 7 cups in front of her and we take her down. Game Over. Belly full. Head beginning to swim. The party dissipates and Q invites everyone to his place to continue the drinking. The fact that I have not eaten is never more prevalent than it is right now. We begin walking across the street and I find that my equilibrium is completely fucked. I lean against Kapowski and utter the fact that it's probably in everyone's best interest that she and I leave now...then the night becomes a little fuzzy.
The rest of this story is a mix of blurred memories and first hand accounts from others. Apparently...APPARENTLY...we walk to the car and I decide to "relieve myself" in a bush in someone's front yard. We get in the car and begin to roll...so does my stomach. I remember telling Kapowski to pull over, and I remember nothing but beer exiting my system in dramatic fashion on the curb out the car door. Close the door, we start again, I begin to pass out but am wrenched from my slumber with cries to pull over again...more beer makes it's exodus. Kapowski finally gets back to my apartment...dry heaving out the car door ensues. She tells me we're back at my place and attempts to help me out of the car...not happening. I find that my legs will not allow me to make that 50 ft. walk and decide that it would be best if I just slept in the car. Obviously, Kapowski was having none of this and became insistent that she was not going to let me pass out in a car in 90 degree weather...the nerve. The bars in the square let out and fellow booze hounds walk down my street to find their vehicles. A few stop to see if I'm okay (as I'm half hanging out the car door and arguing with Kapowski) and more stop to make fun of the drunk asshole...don't blame them. Then I drift off again.
The next thing I know, I hear the voices of two of my best friends. Kapowski had called Leash and Q and they had driven to my apartment to help her move my dumb ass. There's no point struggling or arguing with these two...they're not going to let me get away with being an asshole. Each of them takes an arm and leads me to my apartment like a drunken frosh during homecoming. I remember being waaaay embarrassed...both for my debauchery, and for the fact that my apartment is in complete and utter disarray. I let them know that I'm okay, thank them, and they head out. Why Kapowski doesn't kick my ass once they're gone I will never know...but she doesn't. I find my way to the bedroom and crash in my clothes...
Funny that a day that started with such excitement and hope, ended soooo poorly...but it could have been much worse. Fact is, although I thanked Q, Leash, and Kapowski...it wasn't enough. The response was consistently, "Hey, you'd do it for us," and I would (and have on a few occasions) but it's still good to know that I have friends who will stop what they're doing just to save me from myself. No greater gift than that. Thanks again you guys...I owe you.
Much, MUCH, Love,
Bo
