Where was I, oh yes. You liked the cliffhanger? I actually, emphatically, asked the cab driver to let me out in front of the the pub, which is way more boring than Action Rob, so a little embellishment is good for entertainment sake.
Scientific fact: one that is inebriated misjudges distance in all circumstances, from throwing paper in waste basket to the distance from local pub to home. This fact is the impetus for me asking the cab driver to pull over at a pub that I believed was not far from my apartment. Furthermore, I had ran over 7 miles that morning so feeling like a little walk would be nothing to me.
I fall in line, show my I.D., and I'm in the pub. Much to my surprise, the pub had a beer that I have been wanting to try: Stone Farking Wheaton W00tstock. This is a collaboration between Stone Brewery owner Greg Koch, Farking.com creator Drew Curtis, and Wil Wheaton. It is an imperial stout style, with a subtle 65 IBUs, and 13% ABV (this beer geek speak). This beer was so fancy it was put into a snifer glass.
 |
| Snifer Glasses |
I was feeling good. Had some laughs with cousin and her friend, played The Simpsons arcade, and ending the night with a strong, delicious beer. My luck was multiplying as a group left right when I got my beer and a table was available. Solo sitting is an art that I am well versed in and often enjoy it. Sitting at the table, probably twitting accolades over the beer, a young lady asked if her and her friends could sit there with me. I said, "Sure," with an open smile. She calls over two guys and two more ladies. My smile slipped slightly, but not for the reason you are thinking, but the guys were spiky hair, Ed Hardy wearing guys. A certain Garfunkel and Oates song started playing in my head.
One of the girls was asking me questions, being polite, but one of the guys was, I think, sniffing her. It definitely seemed like he was sniffing her. He could have been marking his territory. I was in Robtopia at this point, a far away place in my mind that is serene. One day I'll fully describe Robtopia to you, gentle reader, but for now it is happy place I drift towards.
I just wanted to enjoy my drink, people watch, and leave. The lady asking me questions, got to, "What do you do?" Pro tip: Never tell someone that you are a psychotherapist. A glow must have enveloped me, and a proverbial de-suctioning occurred from sniffing boy. This did not please sniffing boy. He attempted physical menacing. I am not proud of what occurred next. Something clicked in my head, maybe spending too much time around doctors, and I grabbed my glass, placing the stem between my ring and middle finger. Lounging back in my chair as though I no care in the world I stated, "I can make you cry in a matter of moments."
He replied, "You threatening me? Think you can take me?"
"I don't mean physical harm; rather, I can peel back your bravado revealing a scared, little boy with a few simple words." I incited him (which to be fair helped create an air surrounding me of a punchable person), but the girl (I'm the damsel that doesn't know she is in anger) grabbed him by the arm and removed him from the table. This was lucky for me. An awkward silence fell over the table. I swirled my drink, drank the last bit, said (I wish this wasn't true of what I said), "My work here is done," and stumbled out of the bar.
Thus my trek began. It is approximately 3.3 miles from the pub to my apartment (I looked this up later). What I believed was going to be about a twenty minute walk turned into an hour long trudge. Here proving the scientific fact of inebriation causes spacial disharmony. I made my way home without any problems and learned some valuable lessons.
1) If you are taking a cab home, take the cab ALL the way home.
2) If inebriated, use Google maps on your phone to judge distance, it even calculates walking paths
3) Don't walk home alone at night
4) If you are going out, don't tell people you are a psychotherapist
5) Don't incite people with pompous talk.
6) Don't write about your idiotic mis-adventures.
Five out of six lessons learned.
Until I ramble on again . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment