you're not as cool as i thought you were

I really should have just stayed in my room and locked the door on Saturday night, but no. I'm a moron.

I've come to realize that drinking's fine, but drinking around other people is usually a bad idea. That may be the rantings and ravings of an alcoholic, but so be it. All I'm saying is when I have a few beers on my own, watching a movie or something, I don't have to worry about morons who can't handle their shit getting all batty on me. Even when I go out, I don't go all out. This probably makes me rather boring, but I have more of a good time being on the outskirts of the action rather than being a part of the action.

Saturday night was shaping up to be a big fucking booze-fest, and the night lived up to its billing. There was to be a party at my home--thrown by my roommate--and I also learned that some of the people I partied with in San Francisco during the Rilo Kiley show were coming into town. Good times were a given, and after pulling almost a full day at the office on Saturday--my 13th day of work in a row--even my beleaguered liver acknowledged that we could use another night out.

I took my sweet ass time getting ready. I don't rush for anyone anymore. I also have stopped making plans because I'm bound to bump into you eventually. If people want to call me up and set up a time and a place to meet, I'm fine with that, but no one ever does, so fuck it. I've come to enjoy having no responsibilities when I go out to have a good time, anyway. Around 11pm, my roommate got back and asked me to hang for a bit while he went and bought beer; people were on the way.

I ended up waiting around, and only one dude showed up, but he told me about this guitar maker who makes real quality knockoffs for way cheap. I had a beer and played solitare, which has become my new favorite pastime. Shortly thereafter, my roommate D returned with beer and people began streaming in. Nothing too off the hook, and I didn't really know anyone, so I decided to trek back downtown. I knew my friends would be at one of two places, and I found half of them at the first place I checked. There, I met a new buddy. I'll call him Guy, because I never got his name.

Guy was loud and faded. Until this evening, Guy and I had never met; and he was in no way affiliated with the group I was with. He was over at the bar while I was talking to one of the girls I was at the RK show with. She likes to talk, which is good because I'm terrible at starting conversations with people I don't really know, and she's usually pretty funny (in a good way). I heard Guy shout at one of his buddies at the bar, and I turned to the loud noise, which was a big mistake. I knew it was as soon as I turned around. Now Guy wanted my opinion on something, but I had no idea what he was talking about. I just agreed and turned back to my conversation.

Then Guy started shouting at me. I never like that sort of thing. The conversation went like this:

G: Are you from New York?
me: (startled by his astute observation and always happy to bump into a fellow countryman so far away from home, unless, of course, he/she is a Yankees fan) Yeah!
G: Tell me you're a Jets fan...
me: (knowing I'm in trouble) Sorry, dude. I'm a Giants fan.
G: (not pleased he grumbles some shit I don't remember, tosses a crumpled up napkin at me, which misses, and retreats back to the bar)

At this point, I go back to my conversation, thinking that Guy's and my time together is over. But I'm sadly mistaken.

G: I thought you were cool. (He shouts, seemingly jokingly, but still perturbed. Enough that I'm a little worried)
me: Aw c'mon, man. I'm a Mets fan too.
G: (Now approaching me) Aw shit! Mets fan!

Now Guy and I are locked in a man hug. I don't like hugging anyone, especially dudes I don't know, but I guess the man hug is better than getting my ass kicked. Guy remains in my physical space patting me on the back and such, and I'm able to look over his shoulder to see the woman I was speaking to completely confused. Guy tries talking to her, then moves on to other people in our group, the goes away.

Later, at the local watering hole, I'm finally as fucked up as everyone else I was with. I use the word with loosely because everyone's all over the place and I'm just kinda hanging with whoever's around. I'm sitting in a booth in a corner, some coworkers saunter over, and that's when I spot Guy.

I thought it was impossible, but he's even more fucked up now than he was when I saw him last. I figured someone would have cut him off by now, but in this town, they feed you liquor until you vomit on the bartop. I hope Guy doesn't spot me, but he does, of course; he probably doesn't remember his own name at this point, but he's able to spot me in a dark and crowded bar. He starts yelling at me, and my coworkers look at me like who's this? I try to explain, but it's too late; Guy's already at our table asking one of the women I work with if she's with me, and that she shouldn't be because I'm a Giants fan. I would have been pissed if i didn't think it was so damn funny. I think he took one of her beers and drank some of it, and he took a shot with one of my male coworkers and kept yelling at me. Wonderful.

It was last call, so everyone scampered out. I may have said goodbye to some of them, but I really wanted to get home. Halfway through the two mile walk, my bladder decided it was time to be emptied and let me know by wracking my body with a paralyzing pain. I was torn between my need to urinate and my hangup about pissing in public, so I kept moving and talking to myself. I made it home, pants not ruined and busted through the somewhat subdued party in my living room and take a very satisfying piss. It would be the last satisfying moment of that evening. ...