My friends and I started drinking around 10 AM on the coveted Sunnyside street of Beverly. There was one minor problem: I had to work at 4. That didn't bother me at the time... I figured I'd stop drinking around 2, get ready and go serve the general public endless amounts of salad and pasta just a wee-bit fucked up. Easy, right? Not for a seasoned drinker/borderline alcoholic, like myself. I ended up taking a wrong turn to Blackout City while playing in our St. Patty's Day 4-Square Tournament. It was a fantastic idea to turn the street into a 4-square arena. We lucked out with 70 degree weather for the mid-March event, and a shit ton of people turned out for their attempt at 4-square king/queen.
I didn't show my true 4-square talents that day... I was just too fucked up. Around 1 or 2, when I should've been slowing down my alcohol consumption, an officer approached our group on foot. I had a bottle of liquor in one hand and a beer in the other. Typical. At this specific moment in time, I was standing in my friend's driveway. He immediately asked for my ID, which I happily gave him, being 22, but the asshole continued, "Young man, you do realize you've got open containers on the sidewalk? I can issue you an open container violation."
Uhh, no you will not.
I immediately got sassy and pointed out that I was not, in fact, on public property, "Clearly officer, I am in the driveway of my friend's home, therefore I am not on public property." I waived my alcohol-filled hands around the area, to give him the full effect of the widely known concept of a driveway. He shook his head and told me to go onto the porch with my friends. There, I reiterated that I had to work at 4. My friends began planning my call-off. One girl was ready to call-in as my mother to say I had a family emergency, another was ready to call on my behalf of being arrested. Neither sufficed for me. I dipped out, friends unknowing, and walked home and drunkenly got myself ready for work.
I drove to work and whipped my car into a parking spot. I stumbled out of my car to find my arch nemesis from work, Donna, being dropped off. "Uhh, are you sure you should be here right now?" She yelled over to me. Yeah bitch, I can handle myself, I thought. I walked in, visibly drunk and ready to start my shift. My manager, some Mexican twat I didn't get along with, who had "uncle" as his first name, told me I was the extra. I'm not sure if he did this intentionally after seeing me stumble upon him, or if he could smell the alcohol seeping from my pores.
As an extra, you don't have to work unless another server doesn't show for their shift. I was in clear, or so you would think. Every server was quickly accounted for, but a drunken Dylsny decided, "Well, since I'm here, I might as well work." My manager rolled his eyes and I stayed for another server to work.
That day was the first time I received a negative comment. I worked a party with another server, who is known for being a clusterfuck spazz, and on our receipt it read, "You two could use a little work."
Well fuck. I ended my shift and had sobered up, drove home, and found the bottle from earlier in the day and finished it. That was literally one of the dumbest days of my life, but I justified every stupid decision simply by the fact it was St. Patty's Day.
For your viewing pleasure, this was also the same St. Patty's Day "I'm Schmacked" visited WVU. I'm not in the video myself, but some of my friends have cameos... enjoy!
No comments:
Post a Comment