I'm getting older, which is making me somewhat more responsible. This year, my friends and I drove to the DC area to visit our friends and celebrate St. Patty's Day... like real adults, on a bar crawl in Arlington. Surprisingly, nothing too stupid happened to any of us... but there were two funny highlights from my trip:
Friday night, we traveled from Bethesda to Arlington to go out. My friends and I are either mentally retarded or believe we are above the law, because we all had water bottles full of wine in our hands on the metro. I had pregamed with Fireball that night, nothing out of the ordinary, but I was going rather harder than my friends. At the bar, I ordered myself some drinks and accused some of the guys I was with of being gay, which I guess they found entertaining, and became the drunkest guy in the bar.
Out of nowhere, mid-conversation, I was on the ground. Not on my knees, not tying my shoe, physically laying on the ground. Somehow, I had managed to trip over myself, at the bar top, and failed to catch myself with my available appendages known as arms. I don't remember much about this fall, except for the 2 guys I was accusing of being homosexual having to help me off the liquor soaked cement floor.
I woke up the next morning sore as shit and was quickly reminded of my epic bar top fall. Inevitably, my knee is bruised and doubled in size, I have a significant bruising to my elbow, and even have bruises up and down my hip. You would've thought I had fallen down a small flight of stairs, but no, I literally fell over at the bar and failed to catch myself.
The next day, after hours of drinking at our St. Patty's bar crawl, a few of my friends and I decided to trek home to prepare ourselves for a night out. My friend, let's call her Salamander (dead giveaway), was in rare form and she had managed to lose her boyfriend. A few of us left the last bar and started walking home, but Salamander was trailing behind with a box of pizza she found on a patio table. Our other friends were insisting we do not eat the mystery pizza, but Salamander and I were famished. We helped each other eat a slice, which made our other friends yell in disgust, so we ditched the pizza box on the sidewalk and hurried in front of the group.
Salamander lagged behind as we were crossing the street, when surprisingly, she picked up speed while the warning light had changed to "DO NOT CROSS" and a Land Rover, barreling down the street, came within inches of striking poor Salamander. The driver laid on his horn and Salamander giggled and pranced in front of the now-stopped SUV.
I wish I had gotten that on video. Salamander's reaction was priceless, like she had done nothing wrong and that massive SUV was just a tiny obstacle in her walk home. The driver was not pleased to say the least, I was actually afraid he was going to step out of the vehicle to verbally rape Salamander and possibly assault myself and our friends.
All-in-all, it was a successful trip... until I ordered a foot-long tuna sub from Subway shortly after Salamander's traffic folly. It ended up making me sick to the point I couldn't continue drinking that night, totally out of my norm.
The next time I decide to road trip to DC, I'm going to remember one simple fact: I'm 24 years old. I seriously need to start acting my age if I actually want to become an employable, respectable human being.
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