Laughing And Eating And Singing And Playing And Smoking: Part Three

Today, the final part of a recent personal outing. Where I left off yesterday, I had got on the train with visions of my bed going through my mind. It's just as they say, though: if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. The train took long enough getting to the end of the line for me to reconsider my plan, and I decided to check in with my friends about the progression of their own plans for the evening: Karaoke. Since their place was within walking distance of the subway terminus, I checked to make sure they hadn't left, and walked over. We hung around a bit, then headed out to meet our destiny.

It was the same Irish pub I have written about previously. For whatever reason, it was dead that night, but we did what we could to help out. I sang "The Night Chicago Died", by Paper Lace. My energy and commitment resulted in a highly positive response from the audience, which was largely comprised of my friends. I would say that picking a song within my means and drinking less also were part of my winning strategy. We left there, and did what mature bar patrons do after being made to leave at closing time: grab matchbooks on the way out, and light the matches one by one until we were actually ready to leave.

Of course, we weren't ready to call it a night. From there, it was back to the home of my friends, for plans that were indeterminate at that time. As we had on the way to the bar, we played a little pickup football with a nerf ball we found in the backseat. The driver took umbrage, so we cooled it until we got back. Once we parked at their place, we took over the very lightly traveled sidestreet to play some more football. That there were no casualties either human or automotive may be a sign of God's grace. Inside we went. On the way upstairs, one of our party was desirous of a soda. He bought one from the machine in the laundry room, finding it to be warm. I assume he will call the consumer hotline listed on the machine.

Once upstairs, a concrete plan of beer pong came together. I had never played, having only seen it done on tv and in movies. I quickly learned, and my partner and I won both matches. That's not to say that we didn't get our hair mussed- we did have to ingest a few beers as the opposing team made their shots. That aside, the taste of victory was a real morale booster, and helped to distract from the foul taste of High Life, Corona and a Trader Joe's house brand. Of course, that wasn't the end of it, for it was hookah time. That's a pleasant thing to do with friends, but I don't make a very regular habit of it. With that going, we talked a while longer. The last man standing other than myself and I talked all the way through the night about wide-ranging matters of life, music, film and philosophy. Eventually, I was able to tear myself away, croaking and rasping that I'd see my friend soon.

I walked out to catch the bus which had gone out of service and gone back in service while I had been up in the apartment. My phone was almost dead. The cool air helped my disposition considerably, and I got home in short order. I managed to get my contacts out, but forgot to plug in my phone and almost everything else as I collapsed in bed and got a decent amount of rest. So it was for my Tuesday.