Time is marching on…

You’re older than you’ve ever been… and now you’re even older… and now you’re older still.
Time is marching on… and time is still marching on…
-They Might Be Giants

All right, time for a story that doesn’t involve me talking about how much blood I can lose and still be a functional human being. Weekend recap time! Friday night, I went to Duke’s Barbecue with the roomie, Fisherman, and Mouth. I’m a big fan of barbecue, and Duke’s makes a decent mustard-based sauce. Besides, who can say no to all-you-can-eat friend chicken? After Duke’s I was sufficiently stuffed and called it an evening. I went home and lounged around a lot. I managed to build up the energy to get a little cleaning off the garage done.

Saturday, I woke up around noon and started to get ready for Matilda Jane‘s combination housewarming/birthday party. Virginia Belle was nice enough to offer to carpool, so I swung out to her place and we left from there. Upon arriving, I am immediately swarmed by Yankees. Two New Yorkers, in addition to MJ and KT, and two guys from the Philly area introduced themselves to me. The fact that they were all from up North didn’t really bother me, though. The fact that I was the oldest person there (by at least six years) did.

These guys were all very cool, though, and the alcohol made me get over the age differences very quickly. We played Beer Pong and Flip Cup, watched VB’s roomie get COMPLETELY trashed, and joked all night long. After six hours of drinking, it was close to nine o’clock. I had a really good buzz going on that was just starting to fade, which was good since I had to drive myself home from VB’s, and these guys started talking about going downtown.

Now I felt old. Here I was, thinking of calling it a night and these guys are just getting started. But damned if I was going to let these young’ns see me hesitate! We all packed into two cars and headed to the Vista.

First stop of the night was Liberty. Yes, Liberty: the only bar in the Vista that is on my “I won’t go there” list. It was crowded, as usual, and my group stopped in the middle of the crowd to mill about. I grabbed a Screwdriver from the bar, and then another, and watched these guys work the crowd. They were like hummingbirds, flitting from one cluster of women to the next, and it was nice to watch a group of pick-up artists work a crowd like Liberty. I was barely finished with ym second drink when we were rounded up to hop.

The second stop was Wild Hare. This is more of a Stuckey bar: sports, average joes, no one putting on airs. The guys didn’t wander this time, choosing to flirt with the bartender instead. At least, flirt with her long enough for me to finish a Jaegerbomb. Then we were rounded up again, and packed backed into the cars. Destination: Five Points.

The third stop of the night was Group Therapy. God help me, I went to Group Therapy. It was the first time I’d set foot in this place since 1996, and it hasn’t changed at all. I also had the same luck as always with Group, where the party I’m with walks through the narrow bar section and hangs out in the barely-wider space just by the front door. This place has an outside and several opened up sections on the other end of the building, but I have always ended up rubbing elbows at the front door. One Jaegerbomb and a PBR later, and we’re rounded up to hop again.

Dr. Rocco’s was the next stop on the tour, and I immediately went for the corner table. Another Jaegerbomb, then a plain Red bull, and then some frozen drink that I guess was a daiquiri, but will refer to as a rum smoothie, enter my stomach. At this point, I vaguely remembered something about a fading buzz earlier in the night. VB, sober as a church mouse, looked like she was about to fall asleep, and I felt a little guilty about her carting my ass around. I let her know that I was cool with leaving anytime she was ready.

Luckily, MJ was close to passing out anyway, so we of Car Number One piled in and left the rest to carouse. It was roughly one o’clock in the morning. I had been drinking for ten hours. I don’t think I’ve ever drunk that long straight ever. The most amusing part of the evening, though, is that I was completely coherent. I remember the discussion of mortgages and PMI with Steve and VB. I remember Steve having to carry an unconscious MJ inside (and myself carrying her shoes). I remember K staggering around and sounding like she’d been throwing up for a couple of hours straight (which she had). I remember talking with VB about religion on the way home. And I remember listening to my They Might Be Giants/Pixies mix CD on the way home from her place.

So, sure, I might get tired earlier than the young generation… I might be going gray faster than I’d like… I might be older… But I’ve had that much longer to build up my alcohol tolerance. 😉

Final Tally for the day: 1 Corona Light, 1 shot of Tequila, 11 Bud Lights, 2 Screwdrivers, 3 Jaegerbombs, 1 PBR, and 1 Rum Smoothie over the course of 10 hours, and still sober enough to drive home. How’s that for an old man?

2 thoughts on “Time is marching on…”

  1. YAY! this is the best re-cap of the weekend. it accurately depicts pretty much everything. good job, Stuckey.

    did i make you leave early?? i’m sorry. i was starting to get cranky. that means i need to go to sleep. i am not fun when i’m cranky, trust me.

    you still don’t think steve reminds you of marc, just a little bit???

  2. You didn’t make me do anything. I was tired and ready to turn in myself.

    And no, Steve reminds me nothing of Marc. I didn’t see his nipple at all.

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