If I have lapsed in my sinning duties, this was certainly the opportunity to make it right. Four bars, plenty of friends, and a sea of women & whiskey. Like any good night in the Village, this one started at The Continental. Five shots, ten dollars. The night ended at Cheap Shots, and there were more than enough shots to go around this night. I had a few friends more than willing to help me hit number 93 with a bullet.
I always made the claim that I would pound five in a row of Jameson, and this was the night I intended to actually do it. And I did, and my friends made quite the spectacle of it so that onlookers would see me rise or fall to the challenge. I wish Rocky was playing in the background, as it had in the past, but no such luck. After the said shot challenge, too many strangers were aware of my existence. My friend started small talk with a wily brunette, trying to play the part of a wingman as much as possible. She asked if I was done for the night, and my friend just laughed. I’m sure she found my early alcoholism charming on multiple levels. And we talked for a little while, but I really wasn’t feeling it. Maybe in another few drinks she would have been the girl of my dreams, but not then and there.
Bar two was more low-key. There was lots of dancing, and that is something I refuse to do, despite how many pretty girls try to grab my hand and drag me to the floor. I cooled off with a rum and coke, and hung my head low, to the disapproval of the group.
Naturally, this wound me up in a corner with a lady that seemed to be taking a breather. I asked if she had a debilitating ankle injury, she said she was just taking a rest. I mentioned my common medical condition of two left feet, and apologized at how lame that was (a move a friend of mine has claimed as his own), and it worked because she laughed. We small talked it out, and I nursed my drink to recoup from the shot loss of sobriety, when a female friend came up, I took it as an exit strategy.
This was much the case for the other two bars as well. I started strong on the drinking, but then took my time, and played the role of the silent observer most of the night. I really wasn’t feeling much of anything, which might have been due to the buzz though. The farthest I got with any girl was playful half-drunk touches, and small talk.
