Two days ago we elected a new president and in the fine tradition of America and everything that is right with this country that meant one thing- TIME TO DRINK.
Unfortunately, I had begun my non-drinking campaign already. Still, I was dedicated to enjoying the camaraderie of my fellow Obamaniacs/Obamanites (what the hell do you call them?). I had signed up for this event last week and it had been a minute since I went to Blush, a nice lounge with an outside patio area at the Wynn. I also was not about break my rule about attending events just because I couldn't drink. I would toast to President Obama with some water and try to enjoy my time.
I show up a little after 9 pm and enter the event with no problem. It's still pretty early but the bar is still crowded. Democrats and liberals sure can drink. Not as much as conservative Republicans but they can get down for theirs. I take the time to absorb my surroundings a bit and see who is here. There is definitely more Black people out tonight, most skewing towards their 40s with pockets of mid-20s girls in groups of three. As usual at these Obama political events, we have our twenty-something white women. So, yeah, minor potential for good times.
I eventually make it to the bar and order a Sprite.
Bartender- "Is that it? Not mixing it with something?" Me- "No, ma'am. Sober night."
I don't know if the look she gives me comes from not ordering alcohol in a bar or for me calling a woman in her early 30s "ma'am" but she gives me the most expensive soda ever and moves on to someone ordering red wine.
I turn away from the bar and give the place the walk-through. It's a dark venue so you really can't see anyway unless you stare or get close, a quality which has worked for me in the past. As I'm walking through, the first thought that goes through my head is this- "Yup. Probably leaving here early."
Not to say that it wasn't going to be a good party. With a free champagne for everyone that came that night it had the potential to turn into a rocking good time but I was sober and had work the next day. Plus, I happen to, as it always seems to happen, get the rowdiest dude in the party to come and hang with me. Just standing there drinking soda and suddenly I have a short black dude from Chicago who has pre-gamed like a motherfucker with one of those annoying blue tooth headsets flashing in his ear telling me his life story.
Did I ask to hear it? No. Did I say "come over and teach me about minor pimping, being a soldier and plans on getting free drinks" for at least a half-hour? No, can't say I requested that.
Now, I got this dude talking to me complaining about the lack of food at a free event and telling everyone "this is my boy". Fun times. I let him go on and he gets this white South African guy involved in dialogue (who makes the horrendous but predictable joke about us being 'African-Americans'-HARDEE-FRAKKIN'-HAR) and that guy ends up offering to buy us drinks. Whoa. Wait up.
This only happens when I'm sober. If I was drinking my ass off, no kindly older gentleman who looked like Mr. Drummond from Diff'rent Strokes would offer to buy me drinks. Unless he wanted something else....
Whatchu talkin' bout indeed, my lil friend.
I pass on the drink and ultimately this new guy leaves and it's back to me and my new friend who is now encouraging me to dance with a CLEARLY intoxicated older lady on the floor.
Recreation of actual events. Except she was blond.
You ever see that Nicholas Cage movie Next? No? Ehhh. Figured as much. Only watched in the hopes of seeing some Jessica Biel.
Who the hell still employs you, Nic?
Anyways, it's based on a Philip K. Dick short story about this guy who was precognitive. In the movie, Cage's character accomplishes this by living out multiple futures in a blink of an eye. So, basically he sends out himself in several different timelines to find the one that is best for him.
I do this that night. I live out the night in three different versions and come to a conclusion. The first is old hard-drinking Sean. He would go to the bar, order a shot, pound a Corona, get another one and dance with this chick all night. Eventually the beer would work on him and he would have a good time that he would regret the next day. WORD.
Next I played out sober Sean staying out the night and seeing how that went. Lot of possibilities but most ended up with me getting home late and being tired the next day. Also, this option included me having to back up my new buddy in a fight that wouldn't be my fault. That was not an option.
Yes, YOU CAN...but I WON'T, son.
Last option was the one I ultimately chose. I gave this dude a pound, got my last Sprite from the disbelieving bartender and went home.
I don't know how the rest of the evening would have shook out but I figure I REALLY wouldn't have missed out on much. Same shit, different day. I enjoyed a Whopper, met this nice group of folks from upstate New York and was in my house at a reasonable hour.
God, that sounded old. Sobriety is gonna be tough.
Okay, so I'm not going to do my usual Pub Thursday tonight. Instead I'll be attending an art show where I usually have a minimum of 3 beers. Tune in to see how that shakes out.
PS- Oh and I have to say I was not stopped by the cops as I walked home for once. Instead I was asked by a portly black gentleman with glasses and some brown paper bag who came up to me out of breath and told me he had been chasing me for about 2 blocks. When I asked why he said- "I wanted to see if you had any dope. You selling?" This is not the first time this has happened to me and I have to keep asking myself why.....