Sunday, August 13, 2006

My tolerance, my cursed blessing

In the spirit of self exploration and discovery, I feel motivated to expound on my apparently undiminished tolerance for libations. One would think that my ability to absorb hard liquor would ebb a bit, given that I drink less often and less heavily than I did 6 or 7 years ago, but anecdotal evidence appears to indicate otherwise.

Last night I headed out with the Brothers From Different Mothers and the Jersey Girlz to celebrate the eldest sister's 30th birthday. Knowing that I would be drinking, I prepared myself a rather strong, wonderfully tall Crown and Coke before hitting the road. No, I did not have a single sip of this concoction until I was safely at the Jersey Girlz' apartment...I'm young enough to do stupid shit on occasion, but I am old enough to check myelf 99.9% of the time. This night was not one of the exceptions to self checkage.

That said, I downed the aforementioned cocktail post haste upon arrival at my desitination. We left without delay and I had finished the entire quadruple tall concoction by the time we got to Channelside. My timing was near perfect and all on an empty stomach. I figured to be buzzing myself away from the past week and into birthday mode in no time.

The decision was made to eat at Bennigan's, so Irish was the theme. Irish means Guinness and/or Black and Tans...I had one of each, which took some time because our waiter looked and acted like a plumped up Kevin Federline. He struck me as a guy who's been waiting tables for far too long, or maybe he was just an indifferent asshole. Regardless, we eventually got our food, drinks and got the feck out of dodge. Now it was time to get my brain swimming for sure!

We head over to Margarita Mama's and I find myself ordering a drink from Jess. Jess is the sort of bartender that feigns friendly, but oozes unjustifiably arrogant bitch. Sure enough, she gives me the big smile...is that a missing tooth? No, just a severely misaligned extra one tucked in behind two others...that was a close one. She shakes my hand with a wink, the sort you see all night when your buddies are blowing a couple fists of hundreds at Mons while you sit around analyzing the gaggle of emotionally destroyed, drug addicted whoredom all around you. I notice that she's got the tough girl who has seen it all act going, but she exudes an I-would-do-anything-and-everything-with-no-sense-of-dignity vibe.

She embodied the South Tampa slut stereotype...hip level tattoo of indiscernible subject matter, bleach blonde hair, hip hugger shorts, tank top, lots of attitude, etc. The sort of girl who has probably seen more penis than an urinal and would tell you so with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. Some guys would dig that, but I was bored with her in about five minutes.

So I order my first Crown on the rocks as everyone starts to settle in around the bar. We're joking about the bouncer, who looks like a bald barbarian. I'm oggling the feminine fare and going through drink number one pretty rapidly. Time for a reload and this time it's a double of the same. Start in on that one with some energy, as I'm not yet feeling the effects, but still very much wanting to. A few more people arrive and our little troop has taken over a spot at the bar. Time for drink number three and what would be the last for night. It's a single this time and I have to go through it pretty rapidly, because 30-year old birthday girl, aka Granmammy, is feeling the effects of a kidney infection and is itching to leave.

I guzzle my drink, wait 20 minutes for my tab, because Jess' machine started having problems at exactly the moment it was time to cash me out. She makes the expected show of it, waving her arms, rolling her eyes, spewing profanity and I just sit there doing my best to mimic concern. Meanwhile, some height-impaired, bepectacled drunk is threatening one of the Brothers, Mopario, with his shoe. Mopario is no giant, but he had this guy covered on age, size and available backup, so the would-be shoe assailant thinks better of it just prior to being rounded up by one of his buddies.

The night was relatively uneventful, Granmammy was not feeling well and it was time for the ride back to Jersey Girlz central. We arrive in what seems like no time and Granmammy is off to bed while her younger sister KrazieXO and Mopario head out to BBC's in search of a DVD to finish the evening with. Before making my own exit, I decorate a crucifix and various other items in the apartment with some plastic monkeys I found in their kitchen. Everyone says their good nights and I headed off into the humity.

We were probably out for a total of three, maybe four hours. I had consumed what amounted to a half bottle of whiskey (including my warm-up cocktail) and two pints of the finest beers on Earth. I would have hoped to at least get a strong buzz, if not outright drunk, but alas it was not to be. I'm becoming famous for my ability to consume copious amounts of liquor with little or no obvious effects and I'm not sure how proud I should be of that.

Posted by Erik @ 8/13/2006 10:20:00 AM