“one more drink”
Such an innocuous statement in most places at most times, for me anyway.
Last Friday night was a whirlwind of activity with numerous funny events/sayings throughout the night. What was *supposed* to be a low-key, simple Friday evening turned into a wacky, drunken, silly late night with a bunch of Irish footballers.
How it started:
This seemingly innocent “one more drink” phrase is typical of J and me when we are on our way home. Last Friday, after a lovely evening of wine and tapas at a neighborhood wine bar with our dear friend, A, we decided to go for “one more drink”. At any other bar we would, indeed, just have one more drink. Not at our local pub, Carlow East. We like Carlow because the bartenders are super friendly and we have a great deal of fun with them every time we are there. It’s a mostly low-key place that doesn’t get too crowded and we can play pool without having to wait too long for our turn. There’s a jukebox with good music and big-screen TV’s to watch games.
Carlow was notably more crowded than usual, which really prompted us to grab “one more drink” at 11PM. We were able to grab seats at the bar and bartender, P, informed us that there were Irish football players there celebrating and they were looking to find someone to marry by the end of the night. Okkkaaaayy. Shenanigans ensued.
The Irish footballers:
One of the other bartenders, E, plays Irish football (supposedly it’s like rugby) with a team and they had just won their league championship on Tuesday. They had been drinking and partying ever since. We caught them drinking out of their championship trophy. There was some kind of sweet, fruity, deadly “punch” in the trophy. Straws for everyone (gross).
Alan: the 22 year-old cutie with one serious(ly bad) Irish accent. He was obscenely drunk. Between his abundant alcohol consumption and the accent, nearly everything out of his mouth was indecipherable. He was very friendly and really wanted to share the alcoholic contents of the trophy.
The hair sniffer: This guy had some sort of hair fetish. He stroked my ponytail, told me how soft and shiny my hair is and asked me what type of shampoo/conditioner I used. Later in the evening he told J how great her hair was. A few seconds later she feels odd pressure behind her and turns around to find him smelling her hair. Ummm…
“Dean”: We called him Dean because he reminded us completely of this guy we used to hang out with. Dean was a little wacky, but in a fun way. He was dancing around and making silly faces. A nutcase, but completely harmless.
The manager/Mr. Jerk: This guy was notably the *oldest* of the group. He was the team’s manager, I think. He was good-looking and very friendly. Sat down with J and me to talk and stayed even after the rest of the team left for some Times Square area bar. He was flirting like crazy with J. The manager became a jerk when he kissed J. Turns out Mr. Jerk is in a relationship, which he only mentioned after kissing J. She asked him why he kissed her if he has a girlfriend. His response: “because you’re hot.” UGH! WTF?!
Cougar Town or Mrs. Robinson, your pick:
The twenty-two year old hit on me. Told me that he wanted to kiss me 5 times (I made him repeat it because I couldn’t understand a word out of his mouth the first 4 times and then I had him repeat it because I wanted to hear it again). I declined the offer, even though he was cute. I’m quite sure it was because he was drunk, but it was nice to hear him tell me how pretty I am. I had even mentioned to J earlier in the evening that I just want to make out with someone (not just anyone, but someone). But my common sense got the better of me and I did not take the young-un up on his offer to kiss. <sigh>
Phrase of the night:
No, it was not “One more drink.” It was actually coined by A during pre-dinner drinks at J’s apartment, “I don’t want no crotch banging unless there’s penetration”. Yes, friends, that was actually said out loud. The original context was in reference to A’s diminutive stature and how it makes it, err, painful during spinning classes. The things that come out of our mouths (mostly A’s) are unbelievable and hysterical! They always make for a good laugh.
It wound up being a very late night. I didn’t get home till 3:30AM. I was pretty hungover the next morning when I got up at 7:45AM to get ready and packed for a weekend out-of-town. I vow to never again go for “one more drink” because the opposite always happens (at least at Carlow). Now I am just going to go out with the intent to get rip-roaring drunk. And then I’ll wind up sober at the end of the night. But these *quiet, low-key* nights always provide some interesting material for story telling and this blog.