Sunday, October 5, 2008
A Night to Remember (Rollin' around on Broadway)
On Friday, October 3rd, 20008, two guys began a journey. It was a journey that began like many of their other weekend excursions. Steaming shirts. Making phone calls. Coordinating rides. Anticipating a good buzz.
While discussing a potential trip to Asia SF, Guy B says "Looking like a woman half of the battle."
Guy A laughs, but secretly fears that his good friend is either into guys or is willing to hook up with a really ugly chick at some point that evening.
But before the night was done, it would become clear that this Friday night was one of their zaniest adventures EVER!
Guy A and Guy B (names have been omitted from this post to protect the innocent) both have agendas for the night. For Guy A it was to simply unwind a bit and take his mind off of all the stress associated with personal and professional decision-making. For Guy B, it was an opportunity to simply get drunk and show all of his friends how well he could dance.
After an relatively uneventful drive up to the city from the depths of the South Bay, the pair and their female comrade spent the better part of 30 minutes looking for a parking spot. Sleepiness began to kick in and it seemed like the night was quickly shaping up to be a flop.
But one parking spot, one Corona light, 4 shots of Jose Cuervo, one episode of Arrested Development and one ultimate iPod playlist later, things were beginning to look epic. Guy B was pressuring Guy A to take shots. Guy A was dancing and singing crazily. Both guys were drunk and probably should've stopped drinking at that point.
However, upon hailing a cab, it was clear that both gentlemen were drunk beyond reason. After hopping out of the cab on Broadway up in North Beach, Guy B decided to give the cab driver 15 bucks for a 7 dollar cab ride. Such excessive tipping typically spells trouble for Guy B. If he didn't proceed with caution, he was well on pace to spend over $100 on the night. But he didn't really give a shit. It was payday after all!
At the door, the bouncer botches Guy B's name. Guy B is a bit insulted, but simply asks the bouncer to look again. VOILA! Guy B is in the club for free.
As he motions toward the door, he looks back to see Guy A pouting. Apparently Guy A didn't make it onto the list. So like only a true BRO would, Guy B reaches back and pays for half of Guy A's cover. Guy A smiles approvingly and walks into the club with his favorite BRO in the whole wide world.
The two dapper gentlemen quickly made a B line to the bar. Although the were already drunk, they decided that they wanted to be drunker.
When the reached their destination, it was only to find a bar littered with what appeared to be 40 orders of cranberry vodka. Guy B is a fan of the drink although Details Magazine suggests that it's girly. He gets excited. And after striking up a conversation with a random guy about the merits of a new female bartender, who he would soon enough find out was the manager of the club, he learned that those girly ass drinks were free!
"Bartender, give me two of those!" he yelled.
After grabbing his drinks and rushing over to meet his cohort of colleagues, he was shocked to find that they also had bottle service!
SUCCESS! The first 7 drinks of the night were FREE!
At this point Guy A was drunk. He was a text messaging machine who seemed to be telling the wold about how drunk he was and how free those 7 drinks were. Guy B on the other hand was at the mellow point of drunkenness. He sat down and crossed his legs like a true professional. So long as no one started dancing, he would be just fine.
So naturally, the group started to dance.
At this point, things began to pick in speed for both young men. One of Guy B's favorite BRO's arrived. Therefore it was time to take another shot. While taking that shot, another BRO arrived with a crew of BROs and BROETTEs. Two more shots, a sex on the beach and a beer. Yes ladies and gentleman, Guy A and Guy B were both double-fisting. Its spelled trouble. Both guys were dancing. Guy B was kissing everyone on the forehead. Things got cross and sweaty. Guy A was grooving. Guy B had an intesne dance session with a co-worker. Guy B maybe blacks out a little bit because Guy B absolutely tries to make out with the girl that drove him to the city. It probably would've been easier to simply say that complete and utter chaos ensued when his BROs were in full force.
Guy B vaguely remembers seeing Guy A walking around the club with the same two drinks for about two hours. This confused him greatly. Guy B repeatedly tells Guy A that he is going to close his tab. He is pleasantly surprised to find that he only spent $64. One of the rounds of shots that he purchased clearly didn't make it onto his bill. Or maybe that was intentional because he gave the bartender a $8 tip earlier in the evening...
After closing out the tab, Guy B realizes just how drunk he is. He gathers up Guy A and the two head out of the club. Pizza was on there mind. After ordering a few slices, Guy B realizes that anything more than the small bite that he had taken would result in major vomit action. Guy A finishes his slice and then tries to follow Guy B out of the restaurant with his buddy's slice of pesto pizza. After chasing Guy B around for a bit, Guy A gets a bit of pesto on his short. He copes with his frustration by eating the piece of pizza.
Guy A is then startled to find Guy B sitting on the curb and leaning against a light pole. Guy B is clearly drunk in public and there are cops everywhere. They saw him, but they paid him no mind.
Guy A tries to assess the situation and save Guy B's life. As Guy A motions to help, Guy B points to the ground.
"You see that? That's the pesto pizza" he says.
Yes, Guy B had vomited.
Guy B begins to beg Guy A to hail a cab from SF back to the South Bay.
"Get a cab to Sunnyvale man. I don't care how much it costs, I'll pay for it. " Guy B really wanted to sleep in his bed that night.
After discovering that such a trip would cost $100, Guy A used his better drunken judgment to shut down the possibilities of a cab ride home.
At this point, the two friends are a bit helpless. Stranded in SF isn't a good thing to be. Looking around at all of the used condoms and hypodermic needles on the ground they could've panicked. Especially given that everyone that they know is still inside the club. Yet they calmly wait for an unknown amount of time before an angelic co-worker emerges. It was almost as if the heavens were smiling upon these two guys. Miraculously, it was the same co-worker who had previously offered to let Guy B sleep on her floor!
From the curb, Guy B urges his friends to hail a cab. The guy and the girl scamper across the street. Guy B begins to feel abandoned. He walks further down the street and sits on a stairway that leads up one of the steepest streets in the city. While sitting there, he almost becomes a victim of Bro Rape after a group of guys drinking soda crowded around him to see if he was okay.
"You alright man?" says Bro 1.
"Yes, I'm fine. I'm cool." says Guy B.
"Do you want something to drink?"
"No, I don't need anything to drink. But yes, I'll take some of your soda."
After taking a few sips of the Orange soda, Guy B realized that it could've contained some sort of date rape drug. The defeated Bros, realizing that they won't be getting any action, dispersed and Guy B stumbled across the street to find his friends hailing a cab.
When one stop, Guy B makes clear that the stranger that hailed the cab will sit in the front seat and that we will pay for the difference between his destination and our final destination.
Foolishly, Guy B takes a seat in the middle. The moving care might make him throw up. The stranger in the front seat is amused by some of the musings of the drunkards in the back seat.
Guy B, with his head tossed back and eyes closed says to his friend, "Guy A, switch seats with me so I can spit up." He says this in a moving vehicle and had no clear plan for switching seats with his friend. He doesn't even stir a bit after making the comment. Yet, the observant cab driver swerves to the side of the road to let the poor guy out.
Instead of being grateful, Guy B fires back "why are you stopping? I don't need to vomit I just need to spit up! Keep driving man."
And so the cab driver kept on driving.
Once back at the co-workers place, Guy B thinks he needs to piss. Instantly, he is on the ground praying to the porcelain gods and goddesses. But something in his head clicks.
"I barely know these girls," he thinks. "I shouldn't be throwing up in the toilet of a girl that I barely know. I could catch something."
So he did what any logical person would do: he threw up in the bathtub.
When Guy A finally got his chance in the restroom, he sat down to rest and inadvertently fell asleep on the bathroom floor. When a girl came to the door hoping to use her restroom, she found that someone's foot was lodged against it.
Guy A mumbles something to the effect of "Don't worry about me, I'm fine" before stumbling out of the bathroom.
After a collective hideous few hours of sleep, the two men awake to discover that they don't know where they are. The co-worker points them to the bus stop. A bus on which an old migrant worker would fall on Guy B's leg before they reached their stop. Brunch (with a cute waitress at a restaurant that serves salad with omelets), then BART, then Cal-Train. Guy A and Guy B were fortunate enough to not have Guy C screen all of their phone calls. They got him to commit to taking them home.
About 14 hours after their journey began, they were finally back at home and still drunk. Although neither gentleman would be able to go out on that Saturday night, they were already envisioning their next adventure and the infinite playlists that should be associated with it.