Thursday, December 1, 2016

One of Many Times it's a Miracle I Survived

It's about time I write something that's just straight up funny. No more of that depressing nonsense! With it being dark out literally every time I work out now, it's been harder to get going. Plus I've been eating a stupid amount of food. But this story helps remind me how far I've come! Because.... wow.

About 11 years ago my friend Augustus came over to my apartment. That's not his real name. It was a Friday in January. The day and month don't matter, because we would drink on any night at any time of the year. We had some other hobbies, but mostly we drank.

After having several beers, we decided to go watch Underworld Evolution. It was the second in a series of movies about vampires featuring a moody and attractive Kate Beckinsale. I just looked her up on IMDB to see what new and exciting things she's been doing since those long ago days. She's in a new Underworld movie coming out next month. I'm not sure if I'm excited or indifferent.

Vampires and sex and violence and stuff.

Having no other joy in our lives, Augustus and I decided to bring more booze to the theater. In case you don't live in this country, that's totally not allowed. When I first wrote this story 130 months ago, I made it a point to write down precisely what alcohol we brought. I always find it sad that young people take so much pride in the quantity and quality of their alcohol. Apparently I was exactly that sad.

Anyway, I brought 6 ounces of 100 proof Southern Comfort and Augustus brought 8 ounces of 80 proof vodka. I don't recall the brand, but it was undoubtedly cheap. We snuck our contraband into the theater and sat down, our ill intentions emblazoned in our obtuse minds.

Every time there was a fight scene, we took a shot.

Every time there was nudity, we took a shot.

Every time it had been more than a few minutes since we'd taken a shot, we took a shot.

At some point Augustus started yelling "I love you!" at the screen. We polished off all our liquor. By the end of the movie, we were drunk. We left.

As we sped out of the parking lot, we realized we were hungry. Just a quick aside here for all you judgmental types: I don't drink anymore. We decided to go to Applebees. Wow.... Applebees. Is that even a place anymore? It's on the same list for me as McDonalds and Taco Bell. But I guess at that point in my life I was perfectly fine with eating several thousands calories of fried starch in a sitting.

I miss those days.

I had a grapefruit last night, and it pushed me over my calorie budget. A grapefruit made me feel fat and guilty.

A grapefruit.
Chock full of calories

We weren't nearly done drinking yet, and Augustus wasn't uuuuuuuuh.... of age at the time. Hold on:
  • Public intoxication: check.
  • Drunk driving: check.
  • Underage drinking: check.
... and I've barely even started this story. Thank goodness for the statute of limitations. As I was saying, we weren't done drinking yet, so we stopped by Tops to get something to put into Augustus' flask. They don't sell liquor at Tops. We got a six pack of long-neck Coronas (just imagine I'm putting little registered trademark symbols next to all these brand names). The bottles were smaller, and we figured we could sneak them into Applebees with ease. Ease. You see, we were clever young adults in the prime of our lives.

By the way, when a young man or woman argues that they're smart and can handle their own $hit, this is what they mean. They mean they can do stupid things and get away with it. They believe they can. They're generally wrong. So feel free to insult their ego.

We each slammed a Corona in the car. Augustus stashed two more into his coat, and in we went. We budged in front of people and made a beeline for the bar. Augustus, continuing to demonstrate his ingenuity, asked around and got the names of the two bartenders. Let's call them Steve and Debbie.

Steve came over and asked us what we'd like. I said, "actually, could we get Debbie? Thanks!"

So then Debbie came over and we said, "hey Debbie! How's it going? Do you remember us? We came in here last month!" We managed to convince her that she did remember us. Or at least she was being polite.

I ordered a beer and some appetizers (buckets of grease). Augustus pulled out one of his Coronas and started (continued) drinking. He covered the bottle with his hand so you couldn't tell it was a long-neck.

Debbie came back and asked, "did you already pay for that drink?"

"Yup, Steve already took care of it," I replied. Pow! After that we were in the clear. We each ordered a perfect martini (that's manly, right?) and a shot.

At this point we thought, wow, this plan really worked! We're flipping geniuses! But our overconfidence got the best of us. Augustus stopped covering his beer and left it out on the bar. I pointed out at that they don't serve long-necks and we'd get in trouble. Augustus said we'd be totally fine. He was wrong.

Debbie came over with our perfect martinis and noticed the Corona.

"We don't serve long-necks here," she said, "I'm going to have to see your IDs."

"Oh, I left it in the car," Augustus replied, fumbling about. Debbie turned around to help another customer, and Augustus took that opportunity to say, "let's get out of here." We took one of the martinis, shaker and all, dropped some cash on the counter, and escaped.

We got in the car and quickly downed the martini. Delicious! At least it was delicious at the time. In retrospect it probably tasted like sugar and battery acid. When I first wrote this story, I mentioned - proudly - that I still had the shaker.

I still have that shaker.

Every time I've moved, I've packed it into a box. That shaker has moved with me at least five times. I used it regularly to make mixed drinks when I wanted to be a classy alcoholic, instead of the regular kind of alcoholic.

Augustus and I were still hungry, as we'd abandoned Applebees before actually eating anything. So we went to Friendly's next. We got a table. I imagine there must have been a herd of overweight families glaring at us menacingly. But I had tunnel-vision at that point and don't actually remember at all.

Sure looks friendly...

I tried being flirty with the waitress, calling her by name, which totally worked at the last place. I thought I was being smooth. The first thing I ordered was a beer. She reminded us that Friendly's is a "family friendly establishment." It was clear that we were very drunk, and even in my inebriated state, it was clear that she hated us. We ordered appetizers.

Augustus and I reminisced about how awesome we were at Applebees. We spoke loudly. The manager - a short balding man - walked by and told me to pull my feet in. In my previous retellings, I called him an "a$$hole." We were definitely the a$$holes though. It was bad enough this man was born short and bald. Now he had to deal with a couple of drunken idiots who thought they were superheros. Our food arrived.

"Where's the waitress," Augustus asked.


"Where is she."

"Uh, behind the counter."

"Let's go."


"Let's take our food and get the he!! out."

I don't know why I was letting Augustus make decisions for us, but I was in no condition to argue against stealing food. We each grabbed a plate and headed straight for the exit. Well, I headed straight for the ice cream freezer first, before I located the actual exit. Just as we hit the last door, the manager yelled out, "hey you!"

As our feet touched pavement, he grabbed our plates and said, "and goodbye to you!"

We stared dumbfoundedly at our empty hands for a second and then got in my car. Somehow, we'd managed to escape unscathed. We were elated! Then I realized something.

I'd lost my cellphone.

It was a Nokia 3210 I believe. It was shaped like a curvy brick. That phone was amazing. Last week I had to get an IPhone 7 because my 6S broke after only a year. It literally broke. It wouldn't charge anymore. 1 year. If I had that old 3210 today, it would still work. I have no doubt of that. I wouldn't be able to play Centipede on it but who cares. F@#k Centipede.

This phone would crush a centipede

Augustus and I discussed it at length (= seconds) and I decided that I'd left my phone in Friendly's. Well shucks.

Augustus being a good friend, and also black-out drunk, went back in to look for my phone. No luck. So then I tried.

I told the manager I left my phone there. He said I did not. I looked in our booth. It was not there. The manager took this opportunity to make some derogatory remarks about me and my friend. I tried to exit through the ice cream freezer again, much to his delight.

I got back to the car. I was firmly convinced that my phone was in there and that the manager was hiding it due to his personal vendetta against us. Augustus gave it one more go. My phone was definitely not in Friendly's. We headed home, defeated.

I'm rereading this story, transcribing it as I go, and shaking my head throughout. Was I really that awful? I keep asking myself. And at this point I'm thinking, finally we had gone home.

We did not go home.

We actually picked up a friend of ours. I've nearly killed myself while more sober than I was at this point. Augustus was black-out drunk (but then he normally blacked out). And we picked up a friend. And drank more.

Apparently I went to bed at 1am. Did I round that number down? How did I even decide went to go to bed? Oh, it's because our friend drank the remainder of my booze. Got it.

I got up the next morning at 9am. Back then I was impressed with myself for getting up that early on a Saturday. These days I get up at 5am to exercise. 9am is sleeping in. 9am is sleeping in late. Crazy.

My idea of working out back in the day.

I got up at 9 because a friend came over. A regular sober friend that I'm still friends with. We play board games together. I borrowed his phone and called my phone.

"Hello?" Answered a woman (in my story I called her a "chick", because I was a misogynist back then).

"Uuuummmm, I believe you're talking on my phone, which I lost last night!" I replied excitedly. My phone was at Friendly's (I knew it!). I drove over super fast.

"Hey, I called about 15 minutes ago. I left my phone here," I said to the person behind the counter.

"Oh, the one that got run over?" She said, handing me my phone. It looked like it had lost a battle with a belt sander. Amazingly, it still worked, minus the screen. Oh, and the battery cover wouldn't stay on. I was convinced the manager had found it and run over it on purpose.

That was the end of that particular story. And no, I did not learn my lesson at that time. I continued being an idiot and an a$$hole for quite some time after. It's no wonder I beat myself up so hard these days!!

How have you survived this long?!

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