decompression, part iii

“two seans and a shane walk into bar…

…why?

WHERE ELSE WOULD THEY BE?!?!?”

so goes an irish joke shane used to tell when he talked about me, him, and another sean we worked with going drinking together (which only happened once or twice). it could have been worse – there was a third sean there, who is lead singer of a punk band, and with the third in tow i just know any barkeep worth his shit would just dial “9-1? and have his finger hovering over the “1? waiting for the inevitable.

but never mind that now…

after not seeing him for quite some time, a now long-haired shane called me out of the blue and wanted us to go “have a few drinks and shoot some pool” – all of which sounded harmless. pool and booze on a saturday? hell, there’s my old routine creeping back in – this should end decompression weekend nicely (as long as the traditional rules of billiards are in play – go with the ME rules and it’s fun only if the table is all people you know; with strangers are involved it could get messy).

but again, never mind that now…

so, we meet up, shoot some pool, and have a few drinks. all was well. decompression was complete. and then SOMEONE insisted we go to another bar.

this, as they say, is where the plot thickens…as does by brain, due to consuming liquor from all three NAFTA nations while playing pool, and things get fuzzy. but here’s how i think things went down, from what alex has relayed to me (since she actually stayed relatively sober) –

we left the pool place, went to the square, and saw that a bar (nephew’s) was having a dukes of hazard night. all the waitresses were dressed like sluttier versions of daisy duke (which was nice) – before any liquor was consumed on site, alex decided it was necessary (and paid) for all of us to ride the mechanical bull (for which i still carry a bruise the size of a softball on my inner thigh from the saddle horn from when i slipped off half way and proceeded to ride in sideways (i.e. parallel to the floor) for an extra eight seconds or so – which got me an ovation) and then drinks were had. from there we ended up outside admiring (and one of us marking, in the pitbull and hydrant sense of the word – not me) the general lee, which was parked on the well lit town square (which made the marking all the more dangerous).

from there we headed off down an alley (the marking was spotted) and into the backdoor of another bar (more countrified), more booze, almost violence, back to the alley, loud shouting, almost a scene, off to harold’s tattoo joint, more scene, more mouthing off, and then somehow i decided it was time to leave and that i, in this state, was still cool to drive…

…which apparently was partially true, although only truthfully partial. if that makes sense…

(before i go any further, understand that i do NOT condone, support, or recommend driving while intoxicated. it’s not fun or cool, can cost lives and money, and basically should be avoided. sober, i can say that – however…)

which one of these does not match?

a. driving while intoxicated
b. going double the speed limit in an urban area
c. no insurance
d. verbal warning

well, i ended up going four for four, because i took off like a shot out of that parking space, and was hauling ass within two blocks (and pulled over within two more). the odd thing? i was NEVER worried about the d.w.i. – i was worried about he insurance thing, since that carries a $300 fine…

(in hindsight much, MUCH less than the d.w.i.)

but thanks to good ol’ fashioned motherfuckin’ charm (which you all know not to underestimate) i went 0 for 3 and got off with a verbal warning even though i had no insurance card at all. then it was off to whataburger and home.

i think that covers it…decompression complete.