bored+narcissistic=blog: A Night That Begins at Excelsior...

has got to be interesting. And this one certainly was. Originally, the plan was I was going to drive up to Saratoga, say hi to some people, have a drink or two and then sober up for the drive back home.
.....Right.
So what actually happened was I got to Excelsior, and Sara was reading questions from a large binder to Alex, all things like, have you ever wanted a drink so badly you could not keep from drinking, when was the last time your drinking negatively affected your school or work, etc. Needless to say, while taking this survey, Sara was drinking wine out of the bottle and Alex had a beer. So of course I had to drink too, it was too great a situation to pass up. Jeff Rose (now Sara's summer housemate...weird) walks by and asks what we're doing, we tell him, and invite him to join, and he's like Whoa, that's ok, I've already failed like three of those. It really brought back the memories....
So then we ended up playing Scrabble with Sara's other housemates, while drinking of course. Meaning that the only times I've ever hung out at Excelsior I've played board games...something ironic about that. Anyway, by this point no one was ok to drive, so we took a cab downtown. Curtis then bought us all pitchers of beer so we could play Quarters, another first for me. I didn't really see the point, it just kept me from drinking during the times that I was actually getting the quarter into the cup, which was, amazingly, rather often. But in light of later events, that was probably a good thing.
So this is about where my memory gets fuzzy. I know we went to Gaffney's, drank more, I know I ran into Paul and some of his friends from home, and a girl named Rachel Caine who I had hitherto only heard tell of, but I seem to remember her hugging me while I was crying. Also, I hear that Alex came to find me after I sent a VERY incoherent text--it's still in my phone, so I can transcribe it:" So y3o0u guys are cbaclhome?" That is much worse if you normally receive texts from me and know how well-punctuated they normally are. I'm sure that one was the result of a lot of careful deleting as I realized I was hitting completely wrong buttons...and it still ended up like that. I think Webster's might have a new entry for "impaired judgment"
Anyway, I also remember sitting on the fountain in Congress Park and hearing the plastic ass story in the presence of Paul's friend Pat, who was the lucky owner of the bed in which it all occurred. And then I ended up sleeping on Paul's air mattress with him and Pat, who apparently decided he didn't want to sleep on the "Charlie bed" of couch cushions Rich and Paul had so kindly set up for him in the hallway. Strange, because Paul thought it was comfortable enough and ended up stretching out on them the next morning while still in his boxers and falling asleep right smack in everyone's way.
I then went out to breakfast at Beverly's with Alex and Sara and Emily, and eventually Tandi, who were very grateful that I was in fact not dead, and that I had found better sleeping arrangements than a ditch somewhere, if, admittedly, only slightly better.
I then made my way back to my car, drove home, only to find my parents skinny dipping in our pool, which i was in no state to handle. They put clothes on though and I spent the rest of the day floating on our inflatable floatie recovering from my hangover and wondering why my left ear hurt.
The End