cnfuzzd
10-31-2005, 03:57 PM
this is a cross post from another forum i participate in. Thought it could be enjoyed here also.
I meant to post about my Night Out Drinking, but always forgot. This is two fridays ago. Enjoy!
So im sitting around the house, not wanting to play poker due to the fact that i played a [censored] ton the day before to come closer to making my hands goal for the month. Im not really wanting to play serious poker, so i decide to participate in my other past time and get really drunk. I start drinking bourbon around 5pm. I call all my friends (both of them) to see what they are up to. Ones a no answer and the others on a date. Oh well, i usually have a good time blacking out while playing poker and figuring out the next morning how many figures i lost the night before. I run to the liquor store for some more knob, then sit down for some good plol. I hype the game, and am getting kind of drunk, when a friend calls and says that we (she, her bf, and i) should go see this really good blue/rock band that her other friend knows about. I find out where its at, (some yuppie club) and, since i despise her boyfriend, and really most of her other friends, i decide it would be a great idea to go. Like i said, i was drunk. This all goes down around 730 ish, and i assume we are leaving soon, so i start drinking heavily. Not only is this because i assume the place we are going will be some crappy bar charging me my left testicle for a drink, but also because the more drinks i purchase in the bar, the more likely i am to feel so disgusted with my travelling companions and purchase shots for them to alter their personality/kill them by means of alcohol poisoning. However, they dont show up till around 900 ish. So, i had around 90 minutes of heavy drinking before i went out in public. Good times. Then we get to the bar.
this is where things started to go south. First, my friends douchbag boyfriend is driving, and we cruise around this place looking for parking for like ten minutes before i yell in my drunken fury from the back " PARK IN THE [censored] WALGREENS LOT" The douchbag quips "but its only for customers, they might tow me." At this point, friend steps in and points out how very unlikely it is to get towed after 930 on a friday night. Then we get to the line at the club, not too long, and i soon find out why. TWENTY DOLLAR COVER! Serious what the [censored]. Not only does this irk me, but it also pisses me off that this entire crowd of people im with constantly bitch and complain about how they are so destitute and poor (all the while asking me how much i make playing poker) have chosen to spend twenty bucks on a band no one knows about. Oh well, im drunk, and the cover is standing between me and my next drink. We get in, and the crowd is a perfect cross section of yuppie kansas. I can tell already this is going to be a good time. I get in, and order a double bourbon. The nice bartender tells me they are out of jim beam. I sigh, and explain further. I get my drink, and all sort of people i know and hate come up and tell me how glad they are to see me. Well, theres always the band i suppose. Then the band starts. This band is terrible. Its like if jimi hendrix was a white guy, and instead of playing jimi songs, he started playing lynyrd skynrd, badly. The worst conglomeration of blues and southern rock ive ever heard. At this point i decide to leave. I go up to the bar, order a tequila shot, another bourbon, and a cab. While waiting for the drinks, i notice im sitting next to this incredibly bored looking black dude. As i can only assume he is enjoying the show even less than me, i try to strike up a conversation. Its obvious he thinks im some drunk rich white guy trying to be cool. He may be correct. I feel that my ability to succssessfully converse with people of color must suck. This feeling is about to change. The cab arrives. Its around 1030 ish, i think.
Ah, sweet freedom. There really are few feeling like being in a cab, knowing that as long as you have enough money, you can go as far as you want, and get as drunk as you want. Perhaps the only thing better is when you notice that there is a lingering scent of marijuana in the cab. The cabbie and i are talking, and i learn his name is maurice. Maurice asks me where i want to go, and i tell him anywhere cool. He says ok, and we drive. I enquire about the weed, and mention that i have been looking for some weed, and would be willing to tip if he knows where to get some. He says sure, in fact, he was about to get off, and was going to go to this other club to chill. He says we can go there, and smoke a blunt on the way. Maurice is my new best friend. We cruise around downtown kc smoking a blunt. At this point, im really not sure where we are, but i know i am [censored] wasted. Then we get to The Club.
This is by far the haziest point of the evening. Im drunk, high, and very out of place. This club is pretty small, pretty loud, and by god, really, really black. Im one of like 5 white people, and at least two of the crackers were chicks. Maurice seems to clear me, or something, and we sit with a few of his friends. I speak the universal language of interracial harmony, and by some drinks. This is not only because i hope to secure my position as not a target, but also because, as far as a i remember, these guys are pretty cool. We smoke another blunt, inside the club. Somehow, the topic of coke comes up (from past experiences i can pretty much assure that the topic arose because i looked around and said 'who knows where to get some coke?') Its somehow decided that we are going back to maurices house, and do some blow. This part is really really hazy. But off we go. From this point on, i will have no clue at all where i am in kansas city.
Interlude.
Sorry for the length. Sit back, relax. Breathe once or twice. Let me tell you about the liquor store i guess i asked that we stopped at. I get out, and this place is scary. Some dude starts to walk up to me, and maurice pushes him out of the way. I suspect this guy was a crack head. Bars on the windows and doors, glass partitions, the works. WOW. Since moving to kansas city, this likely was the most dangerous place ive ever been. Being completely hammered though, i thought everything was fine.
We then arrive at maurices house. First, its an actual house, which in my racism does surprize me. And its a fairly nice house, much more nicely decorated than my own. More importantly, someone inside this house has cocaine. And that someone, is black. And has black friends there also. Man, looking back, im sure they felt much more awkward about it than drunken-me did. There were five or six dudes there, all black. three of these dudes were huge black guys, bigger even than me. I give someone some money, and we do some lines. Ah, devil cocaine. We are also conversing sort of. I learn that black people dont race beers. I talk a couple of them into it, and of course win. I drink some hennesy, and do lots of coke. About the only time things get kind of weird is when one dude tries to teach me the hand shake. During my time in various jails, ive picked up a hand shake, but im either out of date, or, more likely, each hand shake is specific to a geographic location. This just ends up being a source of amusement for them as they laugh at me though, so its cool. Im not really sobering up, but the coke is make me more 'lucid'. As it tend to do though, the coke runs out. Then the inevitable happens.
"I know where to get some of those rocks"
.......
phew. Its been along time since ive smoked crack, and i remember why now. Maurice doesnt smoke crack, but his wife does, (and honest to god i hadnt even known she was there before this point). However, they are all "impressed" with me smoking crack. Things start to turn fairly crackey. Someones brother comes in with a kid. I realize im smoking crack in front of a kid. I feel bad, but not nearly as bad as i feel for the kid. Oh well. We play some xbox game, and i suck at it. Its then time to go. I of course decide to buy some crack for when i get home. I make some new friends, and all in all it was an okay time. Oh yeah, one dude even told me he knew some girls that liked guys like me. I took that to mean lonely white dudes with money.
So maurice drives me home. I ask if hes ok, he tells me he hasnt really done anything. I explain how its really cool of him to just let me hang out with him at his house, AND HE MENTIONS NOTHING ABOUT TAKING CARE OF HIM. I was impressed, as nearly anyone would do that in this position. So we get home, and i think i tip him roughly 140 dollars. He seemed okay with it.
I stumble into my house, and sit at my computer. I smoke some crack, and make a fool out of myself on irc. Well, not really a fool, i just keep saying "I SMOKE ROCKS" which is true. I was sharp enough to snag my beer from maurices, and im drinking way too fast. I decide its time to pass out. I walk in, and laydown. THe next afternoon, i wake up on my living room floor. Alive.
All in all, it was a great time. I guarentee that out of all the people my night started with, i had more fun than any of them. I actually felt like i did something completely out of the ordinary, and manged to not get mugged, beat up, or go to jail. I have no great compulsions to further explore the world of crack, which is good for someone with my history. Also, every one who i ditched at the show was REALLY shocked by my nights events.
Good times.
peace
john nickle
I meant to post about my Night Out Drinking, but always forgot. This is two fridays ago. Enjoy!
So im sitting around the house, not wanting to play poker due to the fact that i played a [censored] ton the day before to come closer to making my hands goal for the month. Im not really wanting to play serious poker, so i decide to participate in my other past time and get really drunk. I start drinking bourbon around 5pm. I call all my friends (both of them) to see what they are up to. Ones a no answer and the others on a date. Oh well, i usually have a good time blacking out while playing poker and figuring out the next morning how many figures i lost the night before. I run to the liquor store for some more knob, then sit down for some good plol. I hype the game, and am getting kind of drunk, when a friend calls and says that we (she, her bf, and i) should go see this really good blue/rock band that her other friend knows about. I find out where its at, (some yuppie club) and, since i despise her boyfriend, and really most of her other friends, i decide it would be a great idea to go. Like i said, i was drunk. This all goes down around 730 ish, and i assume we are leaving soon, so i start drinking heavily. Not only is this because i assume the place we are going will be some crappy bar charging me my left testicle for a drink, but also because the more drinks i purchase in the bar, the more likely i am to feel so disgusted with my travelling companions and purchase shots for them to alter their personality/kill them by means of alcohol poisoning. However, they dont show up till around 900 ish. So, i had around 90 minutes of heavy drinking before i went out in public. Good times. Then we get to the bar.
this is where things started to go south. First, my friends douchbag boyfriend is driving, and we cruise around this place looking for parking for like ten minutes before i yell in my drunken fury from the back " PARK IN THE [censored] WALGREENS LOT" The douchbag quips "but its only for customers, they might tow me." At this point, friend steps in and points out how very unlikely it is to get towed after 930 on a friday night. Then we get to the line at the club, not too long, and i soon find out why. TWENTY DOLLAR COVER! Serious what the [censored]. Not only does this irk me, but it also pisses me off that this entire crowd of people im with constantly bitch and complain about how they are so destitute and poor (all the while asking me how much i make playing poker) have chosen to spend twenty bucks on a band no one knows about. Oh well, im drunk, and the cover is standing between me and my next drink. We get in, and the crowd is a perfect cross section of yuppie kansas. I can tell already this is going to be a good time. I get in, and order a double bourbon. The nice bartender tells me they are out of jim beam. I sigh, and explain further. I get my drink, and all sort of people i know and hate come up and tell me how glad they are to see me. Well, theres always the band i suppose. Then the band starts. This band is terrible. Its like if jimi hendrix was a white guy, and instead of playing jimi songs, he started playing lynyrd skynrd, badly. The worst conglomeration of blues and southern rock ive ever heard. At this point i decide to leave. I go up to the bar, order a tequila shot, another bourbon, and a cab. While waiting for the drinks, i notice im sitting next to this incredibly bored looking black dude. As i can only assume he is enjoying the show even less than me, i try to strike up a conversation. Its obvious he thinks im some drunk rich white guy trying to be cool. He may be correct. I feel that my ability to succssessfully converse with people of color must suck. This feeling is about to change. The cab arrives. Its around 1030 ish, i think.
Ah, sweet freedom. There really are few feeling like being in a cab, knowing that as long as you have enough money, you can go as far as you want, and get as drunk as you want. Perhaps the only thing better is when you notice that there is a lingering scent of marijuana in the cab. The cabbie and i are talking, and i learn his name is maurice. Maurice asks me where i want to go, and i tell him anywhere cool. He says ok, and we drive. I enquire about the weed, and mention that i have been looking for some weed, and would be willing to tip if he knows where to get some. He says sure, in fact, he was about to get off, and was going to go to this other club to chill. He says we can go there, and smoke a blunt on the way. Maurice is my new best friend. We cruise around downtown kc smoking a blunt. At this point, im really not sure where we are, but i know i am [censored] wasted. Then we get to The Club.
This is by far the haziest point of the evening. Im drunk, high, and very out of place. This club is pretty small, pretty loud, and by god, really, really black. Im one of like 5 white people, and at least two of the crackers were chicks. Maurice seems to clear me, or something, and we sit with a few of his friends. I speak the universal language of interracial harmony, and by some drinks. This is not only because i hope to secure my position as not a target, but also because, as far as a i remember, these guys are pretty cool. We smoke another blunt, inside the club. Somehow, the topic of coke comes up (from past experiences i can pretty much assure that the topic arose because i looked around and said 'who knows where to get some coke?') Its somehow decided that we are going back to maurices house, and do some blow. This part is really really hazy. But off we go. From this point on, i will have no clue at all where i am in kansas city.
Interlude.
Sorry for the length. Sit back, relax. Breathe once or twice. Let me tell you about the liquor store i guess i asked that we stopped at. I get out, and this place is scary. Some dude starts to walk up to me, and maurice pushes him out of the way. I suspect this guy was a crack head. Bars on the windows and doors, glass partitions, the works. WOW. Since moving to kansas city, this likely was the most dangerous place ive ever been. Being completely hammered though, i thought everything was fine.
We then arrive at maurices house. First, its an actual house, which in my racism does surprize me. And its a fairly nice house, much more nicely decorated than my own. More importantly, someone inside this house has cocaine. And that someone, is black. And has black friends there also. Man, looking back, im sure they felt much more awkward about it than drunken-me did. There were five or six dudes there, all black. three of these dudes were huge black guys, bigger even than me. I give someone some money, and we do some lines. Ah, devil cocaine. We are also conversing sort of. I learn that black people dont race beers. I talk a couple of them into it, and of course win. I drink some hennesy, and do lots of coke. About the only time things get kind of weird is when one dude tries to teach me the hand shake. During my time in various jails, ive picked up a hand shake, but im either out of date, or, more likely, each hand shake is specific to a geographic location. This just ends up being a source of amusement for them as they laugh at me though, so its cool. Im not really sobering up, but the coke is make me more 'lucid'. As it tend to do though, the coke runs out. Then the inevitable happens.
"I know where to get some of those rocks"
.......
phew. Its been along time since ive smoked crack, and i remember why now. Maurice doesnt smoke crack, but his wife does, (and honest to god i hadnt even known she was there before this point). However, they are all "impressed" with me smoking crack. Things start to turn fairly crackey. Someones brother comes in with a kid. I realize im smoking crack in front of a kid. I feel bad, but not nearly as bad as i feel for the kid. Oh well. We play some xbox game, and i suck at it. Its then time to go. I of course decide to buy some crack for when i get home. I make some new friends, and all in all it was an okay time. Oh yeah, one dude even told me he knew some girls that liked guys like me. I took that to mean lonely white dudes with money.
So maurice drives me home. I ask if hes ok, he tells me he hasnt really done anything. I explain how its really cool of him to just let me hang out with him at his house, AND HE MENTIONS NOTHING ABOUT TAKING CARE OF HIM. I was impressed, as nearly anyone would do that in this position. So we get home, and i think i tip him roughly 140 dollars. He seemed okay with it.
I stumble into my house, and sit at my computer. I smoke some crack, and make a fool out of myself on irc. Well, not really a fool, i just keep saying "I SMOKE ROCKS" which is true. I was sharp enough to snag my beer from maurices, and im drinking way too fast. I decide its time to pass out. I walk in, and laydown. THe next afternoon, i wake up on my living room floor. Alive.
All in all, it was a great time. I guarentee that out of all the people my night started with, i had more fun than any of them. I actually felt like i did something completely out of the ordinary, and manged to not get mugged, beat up, or go to jail. I have no great compulsions to further explore the world of crack, which is good for someone with my history. Also, every one who i ditched at the show was REALLY shocked by my nights events.
Good times.
peace
john nickle