One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer

I know, I've been so depressing and angry lately. Those of you who know me know that I'm usually not like that. I'm usually good for a laugh.

So, for my Friends, I write this entry. This is a flash back episode. I hope it will let you laugh.

I'm actually a minor character in this one. The real star is Chris, but, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Many of you have probably already heard this story, but not all in one piece. So, here it is...

As I've mentioned before, my Grandfather passed on March 7th, a Friday. Bowling night is on Wednesdays. On March 5th, Christian blew up some stuff at work (by accident, or so he claims), and Chris was stuck at the office trying to clean it up instead of bowling. The prior Thursday my final divorce papers arrive.

For my Grandfather's passing, I was out of the office Thursday, Friday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, but I managed to hook up with the guys on Wednesday evening to go bowling.

Chris decided we needed to get drunk to drown our sorrows and to commemorate my divorce.

Before I continue, some stats on the principal players here:

Freddie: 6'0", 235 lbs (knows when to say when)
Mike: 5'10", 200 lbs (a former bartender)
Chris: 5'11", 150 lbs (gets stupider as he drinks)

In the space of an hour and an half, each of us has had 5 Screaming Nazis (2/3 Jagermeister, 1/3 Rumple Minze) and 5 beers.

We start bowling at 5:15. We end at 7:00. For the last 45 minutes or so, I think we set new standards on how poorly you can bowl.

I called it quits at that point. Chris and Mike decided to keep going.

The final: 7 shots, 7 beers in 2 hours.

I went into the back bar and hung with the guys until about 8:00, crawling into a corner to go to sleep! Only for about 30 minutes, though. Honest.

When I got up, Chris and Mike ordered some food and picked it up. Chris' food sat next to him on the bar, where he had his arms folded, head resting on them.

Next thing you know, he gets up, spins around and does a face plant on the floor! I'm totally shitfaced still, so, I kind of watch dazed while Mike is laughing. K. goes over to him, at which point I do to, just in time to see him spew on the floor.

K. tells Mike to help. His reponse?

"I didn't sign up for this shit!"

What a guy!

I throw some paper towels under Chris while K. gets him a glass of water. What does he do? Takes a sip then spits it out on the floor. Talk about distinguishing tastes...

I finally get him up and into the bathroom while Mike works on cleaning the puke off the floor. Mike comes back to switch, and I finish. We escort Chris to the same corner of the bar I was sleeping at, then cover him with our coats.

The whole time, Chris is staring at me, going "F--- you, Freddie. F--- you."

Me: "Why are you cursing at me? You're the dumb ass who kept drinking!"
Chris: "Because I was trying to get you drunk!"
Me: "Well, you did, but I stopped."
Chris: "F--- you."
Me: "Hey, remember I've got 100 lbs on you!"
Chris: "F--- you."

I called Chris' house and left a message for his wife around 10. It sounded like this:

"Hey, umm...this is Freddie. Chris had a *little* too much to drink tonight and got a *little* sick. I'm going to be checking him into a hotel. Umm...bye."

Chris wasn't too happy by this development. Mike thought I shouldn't have done it either. How come I'm the one divorced here when I'm the one that remains in contact, huh?

Anyway, Chris continued to lie there until 11:30 that night. I get him to the bar, where the two of us are drinking water until 12:15. Pat, the bartender, is really worried about Chris, as is K. I finally hustle Chris out to his car, with K. making me promise to call her in the morning to let her know we got home okay.

Chris follows me over to the office, where he declares "I think I'm okay to drive home."

Me: "I've gotta take a leak. Why don't you come in and we'll see how you're doing then."
Chris: "Fine."

So, in we go. I go to the bathroom, then find Chris leaving another message for his wife, telling her he's going to chill at the office for a while before heading home.

Atta boy!

I left him around 12:45 to get myself home.

The next morning I get the rest of the story.

It appears that Chris fell asleep in his chair, only to awaken at 4 in the morning. He then proceeded to drive home, going about 2/3 of the way, only to pull into a parking lot to sleep some more. He ended up getting home at 6 in the morning!

I called K. the next day at lunch to let her know everyone was in one piece, and she called Pat to let her know too. Apparently Pat was a wreck from worrying - poor Pat. In the hustle of the night before, I had forgotten to leave Pat a tip, so I went back that evening. Remember, children, that K. works on Thursday's too. I hung out with her for the rest of the evening, interspersed with comments of "You guys are such assholes."

Me: "Yes. I know. Tell me again."
K.: "You guys are assholes."
Me: "I know."

Luckily, the management of the bowling alley didn't find out about this. Equally lucky was that we managed to clean up the floor pretty good - not even a smell in the rug.

The bad news was Chris' wife cut him off for a month.

But she's let him touch her since. At least that's what he says...