b&t doesnt just mean bridge and tunnel (a cheatin repost from jan 21)

when my friend tonic invited me to go out last saturday night, i had a sneaking suspicion that she was holding something back.

but she’s a bit of a mixer - shes always hanging out with the hottest most interesting people in chicago - and i always have fun partying with her, so i opted to forego my better judgement.

its been a while since the two of us had partied together, so i figured that a couple of drinks couldn’t hurt. afterall it’s a saturdayfuckin night - im twenty five, not forty five.

so despite my nagging suspicions, i agreed to meet up for a drink or few.

she chose the venue - cherry red.

warning sign number one.

her choice of venue was surprising - normally tonic has the hottest hookup on the heezy (ha!). cherry red is not hot, and it hasn’t been for quite a while. in fact i normally avoid the place because of the sheer cheesiness that emanates from its doors.

but i wanted to party with tonic, so i figured that’s where i was headed for the night. a soldiers gotta do, what a soldiers gotta do. so be it.

the club was already crowded by the time we rolled up - who the hell goes out in chicago at 9pm? apparently we do. ha!

the bass was thumping, and the drinks were flowing fast and furious. people were mostly standing around, but there were already a couple drunkards swaying to the beat - it wouldn’t be long before the dance floor was hopping. a thought that made me suddenly realize that i was awfully thirsty. so made a beeline for the back.

our party was in the ‘vip’ area. which is basically cheesy club code for the ‘back room where they normally keep the kegs’. to step through the ‘vip’ doors, i had to part with a jackson, but i did get handed a plastic mug in return.

i had to laugh out loud- i had forgotten how ‘classy’ tonic can be when she’s slumming it.

not that i was too good for a plastic mug. in fact, i grabbed the pre-offered cup, and quickly stepped right upto the bar for a drink.

one sip and a single slapped down on the bar later, i was already half-way through my captain and coke.

which was probably a good thing, because i turned from the bar just in time to catch my old friend bombay stepping through the 'vip' doors - had my cup been full i probably would have sprayed everyone in a five foot radius.

i ran over and greeted my old friend with a big fucking bear hug, all the while thinking, ‘aw the shit just got crazy tonight’.

cause when bombay, tonic and i party, we throw down HARD.

warning sign number two.

tonic and bombay were quick to grease our social circle in the back ‘vip’ area - they made the rounds introducing everyone to everyone. the music was too loud to talk, and too lame to dance to, so we stood around doing what we do best - drinking.

i was really disappointed, normally there’s at least ONE person that i can have a conversation with. normally there’s at least ONE person that has something interesting to say. then again, the music isn’t normally jacked up so loud that the bass knocks out the vowels in every word you say.

with no one to talk to, and nothing to say, i stood around and did what i do best - drink and watch people.

the back room was filling up pretty rapidly and other groups were crowding in and taking over corners of the room. coats and hats were quickly piled on chairs, and plastic cups were quickly being filled. it seemed like everyone was doing what we were doing - fake talking and scoping out the rest of the room.

maybe it was because i hadn’t gone out with bombay and tonic in a while, but i suddenly had an urge to talk to someone - anyone, i didn’t care. which is a stupid idea considering the sub woofers were kicking through convo’s like king kong at a scrabble convention. i didn’t even know why people were still trying to talk.

and yet, i had this urge to meet someone new.

which is REALLY weird, because i don’t meet women in bars.

but i thought, ‘eh!?!? what the fuck?. its saturday night. im young. im drunk. im bored.

i have nothing to lose.

so turned around, smiled, and said hello the girl to my left.

(smile) ‘hllro, my nmmm ssss hhhhsssss. whtzzzz yrsssss’?

im not sure if it was the bass, or the alcohol that made me sound like that, but im pretty sure that’s what i sounded like.

talking irregardless, i kept smiling at her and did the whole pantomime thing with the drink and the hand gestures that nobody can interpret (yet we all keep doing it anways).

i liked how her hair was parted, it swept across her forehead and her eyes, and she kept raking it aside with her hands while she bounced words off the side of my head.

me: (head tilted towards her) ‘whhhhhhht?’

her: (lips to my ear) ‘my nmmmmmm sssss srhhhrrrrrr’

me: (head tilt) ‘whhhhhhht?’

by now im starting to think it’s the music that’s getting to me. because suddenly i fast forward to me fast and furiously typing her number into my cell phone. i don’t even WANT to transcribe how that event went down. but i DID get her number. i called her right then and there so i KNEW i wasn’t getting another bogus chinese take out number. (ha!)

suddenly my mind skips another chapter and i find myself on the dance floor watching my friend grind on an indian guy that she just met. im miming the white man shuffle over his shoulder to get her to laugh (successful). he thinks she’s laughing at him until she manages to explain what i was doing behind him.

high fives all around, and its all good in the hood.

fast forward again and im suddenly giving the girl a hug and telling her that im leaving. im not sure if my vowels have returned, but she seems disappointed and wants me to stay.

one final fast forward and its four thirty in the morning. im in my apartment doing what im not supposed to be doing, and i have to get up in three hours to volunteer.

i throw my phone against the wall and fall asleep on my couch.

the next morning in a real GE ‘light bulb’ moment, i remember to check my outgoing text messages.

‘damn you bombay and tonic, damn you to hell!’ (angry fists a shakin’)

because suddenly it all comes rushing back to me.

first there was the moment that i decided that it would be a good idea to call the girl. then there was the moment when i decided that i was WAY too drunk to be talking to her. so i decided to be smart and text her instead. (because THATS a better option) ha! then i remember being so drunk i couldn?t see straight, so i had to text with only one errant eye open. and of course this process eventually culminates with me throwing my phone against the wall.

i wont torture you with the message, but needless to say it wasn’t pretty.

is anyone else channeling visions of mikey in ‘swingers’? (because i am) ha!

so let me reiterate, ‘damn you bombay and tonic, damn you to hell!’ (angry fists a shakin’)

im thoroughly embarrassed. but there’s nothing to do about it. i can only laugh. in fact i found myself laughing more than once that day (out loud) at the sheer stupidity that i am capable of.

but do you want to know the worst part? i really could have cared less about being such a jackass. i found it extremely funny (and embarrassing), but i wasn’t ashamed or dejected. in fact i kept smiling with chagrin. in fact (it sounds awful) but i could have cared less.

because i don’t (normally) pick up women in bars. ha!

this is the point where the story should end... but theres more.

after many laugh out loud moments, i finally laughed myself to a point where i could logically decide not to compound insult to injury by calling her again. i figured that i had already acted badly, so there was no reason to continue the pattern.

at least that’s what i thought until i meet up with some friends for football the next afternoon.

him: ‘so i heard you were hardcore making out with this girl last night on the dance floor at cherry red. in fact i heard you left with her.’

me: ‘who me? what the hell are you talking about?’

and i seriously didn’t have a CLUE what the man meant by that.

i didn’t make out with anyone on the dance floor at cherry red. did i ?

so i asked another friend who was there that night. and her response, ‘naw, that was me. i was making out with everyone i could get my hands on. dont worry about it’.

so i didnt. phew! i dodged that bullet.

at least that’s what i thought until i got home that night. because i flipped open my camera to find pictures of me with several girls random that i DON’T remember taking pictures with.

suddenly i was pinged with a cold sweat - if i dont remember these pics, its POSSIBLE that i dont remember what happened on cherry red's dance floor....

did i really make out with a girl on the dance floor? and which girl? the one i got a number for... or one of the girls in the pictures?

‘damn you bombay and tonic, damn you to hell!’ (angry fists a shakin’) ha!

to be continued...