Car Bombs

Brain and liver hurt today. Synapses not firing properly. Damn you Dr. Jellyfingers. Damn you handle of Stoli. Damn you 8th Street bars with your fancy Car Bomb delights. Per usual, D-ron, AKA Dr. Jellyfingers, my college buddy and drinking cohort, the guy who burned my eyebrow off while I slept two years ago, almost put an end to another one of my relationships. ME is so pissed at me. I deserve it.

I will preface the following story by saying that if an event; a date, appointment, or activity, isn't in my Outlook calendar it's not real. Every thing I need to remember goes into my calendar. Birthdays, doctor appointments, trips, meetings, dinners, EVERYTHING. If it's not in there, there is literally no chance I'm going to remember it.

I was in Massachusetts last week for work. I drove up so I could swing by and visit a few friends the weekend before, then made the long drove home Friday morning. While I was driving I remembered that I had a voicemail from D-ron that I hadn't listened to from the night before and played it on speakerphone in the car. He was drunk, and the message was mostly incoherent mumbling, but I did hear something about him being on his way to DC from Michigan, and that he slept in his car in a Walmart parking lot the night before.

When the message was over I checked my calendar on my phone and didn't see anything about D-ron visiting. Four seconds later I received a text from ME saying she couldn't wait to get together, and asked if we could stay in and cook dinner and watch a movie "before our trip". Three seconds after that I received the following from D-ron "Jellyfingers on premises". It was 11:52am and he wanted to know if I had a key hidden and what my alarm code was.

None of this was good.

I checked my calendar and it was blank. Nothing on tap for the weekend.

Backtracking a bit, I had also neglected to put a note in my calendar reminding me that my sister was going to Europe for ten days for some R&R. She texted me her flight information from Dulles an hour before she took off Thursday, which was a surprise to me. Again, it wasn't in Outlook so if she did tell me, it went in one ear and right out the other. I had a vague recollection of her saying she was going away, mostly because I bought her part of her flight for her birthday, but there were no dates attached to that faint memory.

While I cursed myself for being so lax with my reminders, I got another text from D-ron "Where is alcohol?". I wrote back "Big bottle tequila in freezer", then wondered what I was going to do about ME. I was away all week, I have another trip scheduled for the following week, and I had one very drunk friend in my kitchen with high aspirations of laying waste to DC. These were not compatible agendas.

The phone rang, it was ME, I let it go to voicemail so I could come up with a plan. D-ron wrote back "Note to self, NN out of margarita mix". I'm not sure how much time passed, but I wondered how it was possible he drank half a bottle of mix so quickly? I pictured him on my couch, in his underwear, racking up heavy fees on my pay-per-view account, with tequila and salt everywhere. I drove faster.

A little while later I stopped for gas and listened to ME's message. In it she said something about a bottle of tequila. When I checked my phone I saw that I had accidentally sent ME the text about the bottle of tequila in the freezer instead of Jellyfingers. That certainly wasn't going to help matters with her. I bit the bullet and called her back. I won't go into the gory details, but apparently at some point last month I had agreed to go to some "quaint little town in southern Virginia" this weekend with her, and that was obviously not in the cards any longer. I told ME I would call her when I got home so we could sort this out. I think it goes without saying that she wasn't happy.

When I finally got home at 5pm D-ron's car was in my tenant's parking space, his shit was everywhere, but he was nowhere to be found. Repeated calls to him went unreturned. He was undoubtedly at a bar.

I called ME and it went right to voicemail.

Have you ever seen that carnival game where a red and blue marble race around a giant funnel, and people bet which one will go down the hole first? The suspense is terrific even though you know that eventually both will go down the tube. That is what I felt like Friday. D-ron was one marble, ME was the other, and I was just watching them spin around that funnel.

At about 6pm D-ron walked in my back gate pushing his bike. He was far drunker than I expected and I have no idea how he rode. Fuck it. It was good to see him, ME wasn't calling me back, so I threw on some clothes and we walked down to the Pour House to shoot pool and have some cocktails.

Here is how our night went. I kept track because I knew it was going to be a marathon.

Pour House: 4 beers
Hawk and Dove: 1 beer, sandwiches
18th Amendment Basement: 1 beer and our first Irish Car Bomb.
- Note: While shooting pool in basement D-ron took long piss on floor, can't believe bartender didn't notice...he wasn't subtle.
Molly Malones: 2 beers, two Car Bombs
Matchbox: Too crowded, walked in then left.
Phase I: Denied entry. Not lesbian enough.
Tune Inn: 1 beer
- Outside CVS after leaving bar D-ron stopped and screamed "Batistuta! Goooaaaal!" over and over at no one in particular. Received standing ovation from large crowd.
Union Pub: 1 beer, 1 car bomb
- Ejected after D-ron made joke about raping a male patron.
Irish Times: 1 beer
Dubliner: 1 beer
- Ejected for comment I didn't hear.

When we were thrown out of the Dubliner at midnight I was ready to call it an evening. I was very drunk, but Dr. Jellyfingers was in full effect and was having none of my calls to go home. Somehow, he got it in his head that he wanted to go to St. Ex, which was out of the question because it would require a cab ride, and I knew how that ride was going to go given the Dr.'s state. We would be thrown out of the car within 1 block. I said "No mas, I'm going home", then turned and starting walking up Mass Ave. I thought D-ron was behind me, but when I got to the far side of Union Station I realized I couldn't hear him shuffling behind me any longer. When I turned around he was no where in site. There was nothing to do but go to bed.

At 3:30am D-ron walked in the back door of my house mumbling about Papa Johns and some "rave" he went to. I suspect he want to one of those cheesy clubs near the convention center but he doesn't remember. Actually, he didn't remember anything after the Pour House.

Saturday morning I called ME again. Still no answer. D-ron and I filled a flask with Vodka and went to the Georgetown pool for a few hours. I can't even begin to explain how many gorgeous women were there. If you're a single guy you need to go.

When we got back from the pool D-ron made VERY strong Vodka drinks and we sat on my deck shooting the shit for about an hour. At 5pm ME called and laced into me. She really gave me both guns, and I deserved it. I fucked up. I completely forgot about saying I'd go away. I forgot D-ron was coming to town. I admit it and let her say her peace. I could tell she was on the verge of snapping, so when she asked me to come over to her place to talk I decided I should.

I spent a few hours at ME's place. I brought flowers. We talked for 20 minutes then had make-up sex for two hours. Worked out pretty well, actually. She's still mad at me, but I'll take her away for a weekend and that will be the end of it.

When I got home from ME's D-ron had drank a truly obscene amount of Vodka. We had chipped away at a new handle over the past 24 hours, but I was astonished to see that there was only about a quarter of it left. D-ron saw me hold the bottle up to the light and chucked. If I didn't know him I'd think he spilled it.

We had another cocktail on the deck then poured roadies and took a cab to Asylum in Adam's Morgan. We had two 22oz PBR's while shooting pool before we thought it would be a good idea to start playing for rounds of beers and Car Bombs. By the time we left we had 4 beers and three Bombs each. D-ron was a disaster again.

After Asylum we went to Madam's Organ. There, we chatted up two Ecuadorian girls and invited them to join us at Rumba for Mojitos and some Salsa dancing. One of the girls was really cute. She was short with dark hair and dark skin, and a great body. The other girls was a dead-on ringer for Frida Kahlo, which is to say not attractive. D-ron danced with Frida and I grabbed the little one.

Things got pretty hazy for me at this point. We danced for a long time, then I went to the men's room and on my way back started talking with some other girl. By the time I broke away from her D-ron was gone and Ecuador was dancing with some other dude. It was already last call, so I walked outside to try and find D-ron. The bars had all let out, so the streets were a fucking mess. There were drunk kids all over the place pushing each other, and the cops were not enjoying the scene. I grabbed a jumbo slice and got off 18th street as quickly as possible. D-ron didn't have his phone on him, so there was no use calling.

I was walking around jamming a piping hot slice of pizza in my face half-trying to catch a cab, but I was mostly focusing on the pizza. When the pizza was gone, though, and I put an honest effort into hailing a cab, I realized that was going to be a tough call at 3am on U Street. I walked down U Street for a long time with this really cute girl right behind me. While we waited to cross a street she caught up with me and I said "Are you following me?" She laughed and said no. We walked and talked for a few more blocks then I asked he where she was going. The girl was walking to Georgia Ave, where she was then going to turn left and walk up to her house in northern Columbia Heights, I forget the exact street. I said "That's not a great neighborhood, you should take a cab". She said "I would, but they're expensive...I don't mind walking." I felt really badly for her, I have three sisters and I wouldn't want them walking in that area anytime, but especially not at 3:30am. When we got to Georgia Ave I pulled a $20 out of my pocket and handed it to her. I said "Get a cab". I had spent over a $150 at the bars that night, but this seemed like a much better use of cash.

I ended up walking all the way to North Capital Street before I was able to get a cab. I'm not going to lie, I was a little nervous myself walking around there after so many drinks.

I finally got home at 4am. D-ron wasn't there, but I was too tired to care. I left the door unlocked and went to bed.

At 8:30 this morning I heard lots of noise in the back hall. I walked out and saw D-ron fully dressed and said "Why are you up so early?". He said "Up? I just got home." I said "Did you hook up?", and he laughed and said "Uhh, no. I slept in the bushes of a house next to St. Ex". Apparently when I went to the bathroom at Rumba he thought I ditched him, so he took a cab to St. Ex. They probably didn't let him in, or at least they shouldn't have. In either case, he was too hammered to get a cab at the end of the night so he climbed under some bushes and passed out. At 8am he woke up, crawled out of the bushes, and took a cab back to my place.

It's important to indulge in this type of behavior once in a while.