Weekend Flashback to a Flashback Weekend
This weekend actually ended up being quite the flashback, of sorts. It was a flashback in that I used to have this kind of weekend all the time. I don't anymore.
Anyway, it worked out that I tried to go to the Raptors game with a friend of mine that goes to U of T on Friday. By the time we got down to the ACC, they only had $140 tickets left, and for as much as we both like basketball, we also agreed that the Indiana Pacers were not worth that.
So we wandered over to the Loose Moose on Front St. and proceeded to get our booze on. After the game, we headed back out to the West end to meet up with some of her friends, hit up the Galway and see our favourite bartender, Donna, whom we hadn't seen since before Christmas.
Several pitchers later, to the best of my recollection, I stumbled home and went to bed.
Next thing I know, it's noon... and the tiny amount of sunlight getting through my blinds was approaching unbearable. I make the somewhat unbalanced treck to the couch, avoiding the trail of shoes, keys, coat, etc. down the hallway.
I find cereal. It is the best bowl of cereal I've ever had. So I have another.
Just before 1, Justin calls. I debate not answering.....
Turns out he was in town last night visiting a lady-friend, is getting kicked out because her parents are coming over, and wants to know if I'm up for a pint. I tell him that I doubt I have opened my eyes fully, but concede that I do need to go find my car, so maybe that's not such a bad idea. Read that again and see if you can figure out how I get myself into trouble now and again........
He picks me up, and we head over to the Galway. It is fucking jammed. At 1:30pm.
This is why I love the place.
We attempt to find out why it's so jammed, but be it the thick accents, the drink being consumed, or the fact that I temprarily have an IQ in the 30's, we can't decipher anything.
We leave.
We set ourselves down at the bar of the Montana's around the corner.
Two pitchers and 4 lbs. of wings later, it's 4pm, and Justin notes, "You know, it's only three hours until the hockey game....."
Me: You know, we both have things to do.
Justin: Yeah, I think this should be where we call things off.
Me: This is why only two of us can be safe. If there was a third person here, they'd probably make us stay.
When Justin goes to the can, I text Jon...
Me: So whaddaya say... Get a third pitcher? PS. Justin's here...
Jon: Of course! And deep fried pickles
We decide to ignore Jon, on both counts, and make the responsible decision. We leave.
I got buy a laptop, and test drive a couple of Mazdas. Yes, when I'm half hungover, half getting drunk again, I throw cash around on major purchases. Again... you wonder how I get myself into trouble.
Anyway, I got home and decided a few cocktails were in order while watching the beginning of the Leaf and Raptor games. I cab it down to the Drake, where Eric's band was playing (excellent show, btw). Towards the end of the night, people are leaving, but I manage to convince Kyle to hang around until the end of the night (the coat check line may have made this a poor decision). I vaguely recall just handing all the cash I had left to Kyle as I got out of the cab. From speaking briefly this morning, I seem to have more than covered the ride.
Sunday, I awake at the crack of 11:30.... on the couch. My bed is at about a 45ยบ angle to the wall (note: not the normal position), and again everything I had on the night before is strewn down the hall and into the kitchen.
I forage through my jeans to try to cobble together enough change to buy a coffee (I do) and I find a phone number on a crumpled piece of paper.
Shit.
I have no idea where this came from, much less if this would be worth calling.... or more importantly, what name I gave the person associated with said number (stupid Greg rubbing off on me).
I roll into band practice a little less than an hour late, and the ensuing playing (and sweating) actually makes me feel about a thousand times better. As do the two giant cesars at the pub afterwards.
How did I do that every weekend for four years? And live??
Anyway, it worked out that I tried to go to the Raptors game with a friend of mine that goes to U of T on Friday. By the time we got down to the ACC, they only had $140 tickets left, and for as much as we both like basketball, we also agreed that the Indiana Pacers were not worth that.
So we wandered over to the Loose Moose on Front St. and proceeded to get our booze on. After the game, we headed back out to the West end to meet up with some of her friends, hit up the Galway and see our favourite bartender, Donna, whom we hadn't seen since before Christmas.
Several pitchers later, to the best of my recollection, I stumbled home and went to bed.
Next thing I know, it's noon... and the tiny amount of sunlight getting through my blinds was approaching unbearable. I make the somewhat unbalanced treck to the couch, avoiding the trail of shoes, keys, coat, etc. down the hallway.
I find cereal. It is the best bowl of cereal I've ever had. So I have another.
Just before 1, Justin calls. I debate not answering.....
Turns out he was in town last night visiting a lady-friend, is getting kicked out because her parents are coming over, and wants to know if I'm up for a pint. I tell him that I doubt I have opened my eyes fully, but concede that I do need to go find my car, so maybe that's not such a bad idea. Read that again and see if you can figure out how I get myself into trouble now and again........
He picks me up, and we head over to the Galway. It is fucking jammed. At 1:30pm.
This is why I love the place.
We attempt to find out why it's so jammed, but be it the thick accents, the drink being consumed, or the fact that I temprarily have an IQ in the 30's, we can't decipher anything.
We leave.
We set ourselves down at the bar of the Montana's around the corner.
Two pitchers and 4 lbs. of wings later, it's 4pm, and Justin notes, "You know, it's only three hours until the hockey game....."
Me: You know, we both have things to do.
Justin: Yeah, I think this should be where we call things off.
Me: This is why only two of us can be safe. If there was a third person here, they'd probably make us stay.
When Justin goes to the can, I text Jon...
Me: So whaddaya say... Get a third pitcher? PS. Justin's here...
Jon: Of course! And deep fried pickles
We decide to ignore Jon, on both counts, and make the responsible decision. We leave.
I got buy a laptop, and test drive a couple of Mazdas. Yes, when I'm half hungover, half getting drunk again, I throw cash around on major purchases. Again... you wonder how I get myself into trouble.
Anyway, I got home and decided a few cocktails were in order while watching the beginning of the Leaf and Raptor games. I cab it down to the Drake, where Eric's band was playing (excellent show, btw). Towards the end of the night, people are leaving, but I manage to convince Kyle to hang around until the end of the night (the coat check line may have made this a poor decision). I vaguely recall just handing all the cash I had left to Kyle as I got out of the cab. From speaking briefly this morning, I seem to have more than covered the ride.
Sunday, I awake at the crack of 11:30.... on the couch. My bed is at about a 45ยบ angle to the wall (note: not the normal position), and again everything I had on the night before is strewn down the hall and into the kitchen.
I forage through my jeans to try to cobble together enough change to buy a coffee (I do) and I find a phone number on a crumpled piece of paper.
Shit.
I have no idea where this came from, much less if this would be worth calling.... or more importantly, what name I gave the person associated with said number (stupid Greg rubbing off on me).
I roll into band practice a little less than an hour late, and the ensuing playing (and sweating) actually makes me feel about a thousand times better. As do the two giant cesars at the pub afterwards.
How did I do that every weekend for four years? And live??
posted by Iain @ 1:09 PM
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