i don’t actually have a drinking problem after all
Last Thursday night we figured out that the catalyst for our crazy, drunken *one more drink* nights at Carlow is the one bartender, P.
A friend, T, was in town, passing through for a night and J and I took him to Carlow. For *one more drink* at the place where we didn’t think we could pull *one more drink* off. First we all met at one of our go-to neighborhood places for a light dinner and bottle of wine. At 9:30PM, we knew it was still early enough to go for *one more drink* somewhere. T, knowing of our *one more drink* problem at Carlow and never having been there, wanted to go. So, off to Carlow we went – all three of us insisting that we would only have *one more drink*.
On the walk over, we speculated that maybe it’s bartender P who makes the alcohol consumption dangerous. Not to say that he’s forcing us to drink. He’s not that guy. But we just have so much fun with him that we wind up sticking around much longer than planned and you know, when in Rome (this case a bar), you drink.
We walk into the bar and T asks me if P is working. I look around… nope. I think we’re safe. We order some beers and head to the back where the pool table is. One game of pool in and halfway into my beer and who walks through the door, but P. Oh great. We’re never getting out of here before 3AM.
Lucky for us, P is not staying. He just dropped by in between other *jobs*. What? His sole job is NOT to get J and me drunk? Gah!
It’s OK. At least I know now that we’ll be able to stick to our one drink maximum. And kids, as soon as our *one more drink* was done…we left before midnight. Went home. Went to sleep. Whodathunk?