Thursday, January 14, 2010

Old stuff, but still funny. at least one post a day...

Well, my buddy Nate and some of his friends came to Chi-town for St. Pats day, as Mike was getting married and wanted a bachalor party. No worries for his bride to be tho, they were here drunk watching the NCAA tournament the entire time. No hookers, strippers or nothin. I think we're all a little growed up for that. At least I am. But I was only with them for Friday night. I had planned on staying in the hotel that night, after we got done harrasing innocent bar employees. However, comma, I ain't in the drinking shape I used to be in. Trying to be responsable, I had my girlfriend (Deb) drive me to the EL (what we call the above ground subway in these parts), and I trained into the city, planning to train back the next day. Anyone who has drank with me for a night or so knows that when I hit a certain point, my go home instinct kicks in before I get in trouble. If I ignore it, I do stupid things like fall in dumpsters and break bones (true story for those who don't know).Well... I was a long way from home, and the instinct kicked in hard. I wanted to be home, and nothing, not cops, not lack of bathrooms, or taking the wrong train was going to stop me. Should have been easy enough, take the red line to the blue line, call Deb, and I'm home. I went the wrong way on the brown, got turned around, came back, and there was no bathroom. What i remember mostly is leaving the station to find a back yard (i'm in a city, no dice), making it back to the second platform, and for the sake of any future political ambitions, I'll deny anything after that point. I got on the red, made it to the blue, and started heading home. I watched a guy sitting across from me puke all over himself, and never wake up. I wondered if I would pass out like him. I think the girl next to me thought that. When she go off she practially ran. I then remember that I texted Deb that i would be in the station in an hour, and since that ammount of time had expired, plus some, I had better check my text's. In a fit of drunken wisdom that only I can understand while drunk, I had turned off the ringer. Deb had been trying frantically to get ahold of me. Her brother is a chicago police officer, and she had been about to call him to see if they could find her big drunken boyfriend somewhere on the EL in chicago. In her mind I could have been stabbed, murdered, or worse yet, passed out in a corner of a station. All of these were legitimate concerns. But my drunken ass prevailed, and texted her back. Not call, text, cuz i figured I was too drunk to talk. and I probably was. When I finally made it to the station, Deb was just relieved to see that I was OK. Then I promptly threw up on the car ride home. In the car. Ain't done that in a long time. Car stank for days. And Deb never got mad at me. to bad she is an ex.

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