Wednesday, February 02, 2005
A return to form
In college, I was the Ambassador of Fun. Part undersecretary of State, part raging alcoholic. Duties included walking uninvited into neighbors' houses trying to bring my message to the people.
Greatest time of my life. A possibly insurmountable time of prosperity. Once I graduated, I thought my run was over. No longer am I balls deep in opportunities for bumping uglies. My boss finds it neither funny nor amusing when I take "snow days" in April. Having to open in the morning no longer guarantees having a boozederful night.
I may have a little Ambassador left in me. It was yearning to come out. This weekend it did. Not unlike my college days, my binge began Friday afternoon and ended up walking uninvited into a new neighbor's house. Man, did they love me. They gave me a couple of drinks and let me have as many little sugar crusted cherry-flavored hearts that are really popular around Valentine's Day as I wanted. I woke up at about noon-thirty and was ready to go again.
Round two began with a 7:05 hockey game and I should have known that by three beers downed in the first period that I was in for a great night. After the game, we wandered down to the usual watering hole where not one of my friends has ever been laid. We had to fight on. We had to be adventurous. We had to be ambassadors. We moved to other bars and no diplomats were to be found.
One last bar. Knew people there. Promising. Open chair at a table. Very promising, until I overhear the table behind me verbally notice that I resembled double-murderer Scott Peterson. Short story long--Aunt Sally is cool, has gorgeous 27-year-old niece, and I buy a round of shots. Niece has a boyfriend whom she apparently is not infatuated with. I have an erection that I hope she was infatuated with. She leaves, Aunt Sally takes my roommate and I across the river. We show them how to have after-hours and then they graciously take us home.
Moral of the story--when one has developed and honed a God-given ability to be a booze diplomat, that skill cannot be lost. It can be buried under the stress of a 40-hour week or car payments and the like, but it will never be lost.
Greatest time of my life. A possibly insurmountable time of prosperity. Once I graduated, I thought my run was over. No longer am I balls deep in opportunities for bumping uglies. My boss finds it neither funny nor amusing when I take "snow days" in April. Having to open in the morning no longer guarantees having a boozederful night.
I may have a little Ambassador left in me. It was yearning to come out. This weekend it did. Not unlike my college days, my binge began Friday afternoon and ended up walking uninvited into a new neighbor's house. Man, did they love me. They gave me a couple of drinks and let me have as many little sugar crusted cherry-flavored hearts that are really popular around Valentine's Day as I wanted. I woke up at about noon-thirty and was ready to go again.
Round two began with a 7:05 hockey game and I should have known that by three beers downed in the first period that I was in for a great night. After the game, we wandered down to the usual watering hole where not one of my friends has ever been laid. We had to fight on. We had to be adventurous. We had to be ambassadors. We moved to other bars and no diplomats were to be found.
One last bar. Knew people there. Promising. Open chair at a table. Very promising, until I overhear the table behind me verbally notice that I resembled double-murderer Scott Peterson. Short story long--Aunt Sally is cool, has gorgeous 27-year-old niece, and I buy a round of shots. Niece has a boyfriend whom she apparently is not infatuated with. I have an erection that I hope she was infatuated with. She leaves, Aunt Sally takes my roommate and I across the river. We show them how to have after-hours and then they graciously take us home.
Moral of the story--when one has developed and honed a God-given ability to be a booze diplomat, that skill cannot be lost. It can be buried under the stress of a 40-hour week or car payments and the like, but it will never be lost.
Term Papers
