I rarely get to go all out and get drunk anymore. Being a dad does that. So I was very surprised when I didn't have to work on St. Patty's Day this year and the woman didn't give me shit about going out with my friends.
So I go to my buddy Walt's house and he's sitting outside in the front lawn. I hand him a bottle of Jim Beam for his birthday present with a grin on my face. I have a big bottle of Captain Morgan's in my bag along with a few cans of Coke.
He tells me they have a keg of Molson there, so we are set for the night. I pour myself a Captain and Coke and hook him up with one too. We go through the house chatting it up with the random people he and his roommates invited. Mostly a hipster crowd and not my thing, but I can get along with anyone when I want to.
Suddenly Walt starts looking all over the house for something. I ask him what the hell is wrong, and he tells me his weed is gone. I guess he left it out in the kitchen with the money people were throwing in for the keg.
I can't say my friend is the smartest person I know, being that he left his stuff in the middle of a house full of strangers. I don't think anyone but him would be stupid enough to do that. I kinda laugh, but he is completely serious and takes to asking everyone who will listen. No one has a clue, or if they did they aren't talking.
I don't smoke, so I have already forgotten about it when I see him walking fast out the door with his one roommate. They didn't even tell me they were leaving, which is not like Walt at all. I put my drink down and follow them, because the only place they would go is the bar down at the end of the block.
Before I can think about getting a drink, Walt is now talking to his other roommate Paul who is hanging at the bar. He sets to accusing him of stealing and getting in his face, and all I do is watch. I guess I looked intimidating, because he kept looking over at me like I was Walt's backup or something. I smiled and after a while of them going back and forth, Walt's roommate Paul gives him a name. The guy happened to be at the bar, too.
I don't like to get into people's thought processes in situations like this, because I come off as defending someone who they think is guilty. It's a good way to get on the wrong side of a fight. Plus, the only person I really know there is Walt. Well, this dude Paul named is the stupidest looking motherfucker I have ever seen. He looks like some kind of skinhead caveman.
As Paul goes over to talk to the caveman, it becomes obvious that this skinhead guy is drunk as fuck already and willing to fight anyone who doesn't agree with him. Being accused of stealing doesn't go over well.
Walt just stands there while Paul talks. After a few sentences, caveman starts pointing at Walt and saying, "I don't like that guy!" Walt is still just watching it go down when the caveman takes a swing at Paul. He misses, but he starts taking his shirt off and walking towards us. A couple of huge guys we didn't know break it up and send the skinhead faggot on his way after he yells a few words.
I look at Walt, and he's just standing there like he's tough or something when all he did was stare. I tell him that's as resolved as it's going to get, and he should thank his roommate for putting himself on the line like that. Walt agrees and we go inside. I check on Paul, who is shaken up, but pleased with the outcome since he came out on top. The bar owner is a friend of Walt's and when I order a drink for the roommate, he tells me it's on the house.
Then my brother Jake calls me, so I tell him to stop by. He's pretty much in my same situation, but he doesn't live with his kid's mommy. Way more freedom.
The night goes on as any St. Patrick's Day would, but after my brother gets there and orders me a stout, the next thing I remember is waking up on the toilet in my house. Not only that, but I made it to the upstairs toilet. I wipe my crusty ass and pull my pants up. I vaguely remember seeing my girlfriend's face, but i have no idea what anyone said or how I got home.
Our upstairs is just one huge room I use for a home office and rec room. I was in the tiny bathroom that's more like a closet. There's a door at the bottom of the stairway, and I go down to get some water and a bite to eat but the door is locked. I forgot to change the handle around from when we bought the place. What a bitch my girlfriend is. Luckily there's a futon up here and a blanket, so I curl up and sleep.
I get woken up by my girlfriend hitting me with my hat. She's pissed because I came home sloppy drunk. I really don't feel bad, because my plan was to not come home, but whatever. Plus, I didn't drive drunk and I didn't wake the baby. She really shouldn't have anything to bitch about except that I guess my brother called her on the way home and woke her up. She was probably sleeping on the couch like the lazy cunt she is, so still, I don't feel bad.
She tells me how I need to make it up to her, blah blah blah. All the time I'm starting to feel the effects of the hangover. Headache. Nausea. Sore muscles all over. I tell her she can do the same thing whenever she wants, but I'm not playing the fairness game over one night of drinking. I probably get to have a night like this once a year, and I'm not got to let it be ruined.
To wrap it up quick, I guess after I drank that stout we got food and I puked in the street. Then I asked my brother to take me home. Walt had some pussy waiting at his place so he was gone right after we ate. Jake had to stop twice so I could puke on the way home, and the girlfriend was not too pleased and locked me away upstairs after my brother told her to take it easy on me. All in all, I had a great time and I'm just glad I didn't try to climb out the second story window to get out.