Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery
Sunday, March 27, 2011
She Got Her Drink On
A couple of friends of ours were in town this weekend; two people with whom we always have an excellent time. We spent some time with them over Friday, Saturday and Sunday, having--not surprisingly--an excellent time. It's a bit different hanging out with them than it used to be, in that we've got The Kid, which means we turn into pumpkins around 7PM, so every meal we eat tends to be the early-bird special.
Last night, though, my wife volunteered to bring the boy-child home alone (very brave on her part, given that he was out past bedtime and was wired like [insert drugged-up celebrity joke here].) I took her up on this very generous offer and went out for drinks with our friends. And a good time was had by all.
Actually, a really, really good time was had by this one particular lady in the bar.
The place was mostly empty when we got there. Which was a big plus, in my eyes, as I prefer fairly quiet places where one can actually hear the conversation at one's own table. We snagged a spot, got the first round of drinks in and sat down for some pleasant, occasionally disgusting, talk.
Then the place started to fill up. There was a huge group there for a birthday party. The birthday gal was a very pleasant-seeming girl who was turning, I believe, 27. A mere pup. But, when she had occasion to speak to us, she seemed quite nice. Most of her friends, although frequently hitting us in the face with their purses because the place got that crowded, seemed nice-ish as well.
But one of their party--who, strangely, most of them seemed not to know very well--had done a little too much partying before the party.
She stumbled in not all that long after we'd gotten there, when only a few of the Birthday crew had arrived. She stood there in her far-too-tight, way-too-short skirt and bellowed out the name of whoever it was she was supposed to be meeting. She then lurched over to a table of people who seemed as taken aback as we were. But she joined them, so we concluded she was meant to be with them.
Periodically, through the evening, as the place got crowded, she could be seen crossing the floor like a runaway bulldozer or doing a truly inappropriate grind on someone. Generally making a spectacle of herself.
On the plus side, she was wearing underwear. We know this to be true, because, at one point, she hiked up her skirt to pull said underwear down a bit; a move that, as best I could tell from my thankfully brief glimpse of the action, was meant to be "sexy." At another point, in order to take a phone call, she sprawled out on top of an empty table right beside us, with her ass in the air and the view up her skirt offered for the crowd's...approval? So: underwear, thankfully.
After the phone call, she went to pick up a/her/someone's drink, knocking the glass down, which resulted in both the beverage pouring forth into the hood of my friend's coat and the glass breaking. Her thirst was in no way diminished by the broken glass, though, and she actually went to take a slug from it. Fortunately, some kind soul stopped her before she sliced her face off.
And that's where we get to the reason I'm writing about this. Because, up until the broken glass, nobody had really stopped her from anything. Nobody took the drink from her hand and said, "You need to get in a cab and go home now."
I wasn't watching her the entire time, so I suppose it's possible that someone did try to do this and failed. But most of what I saw was people laughing or looking away, embarrassed. During some of the more horrific displays, a number of folks took pictures, including us.
What do you do in that situation? The lady was not part of our immediate group, she was part of someone else's group. That pretty much means that she's not our responsibility. But none of the people whose responsibility she was seemed to be doing much. I felt a good bit of pity for her, but I was also filled with a decent amount of contempt for someone who acts like that, no matter what her state. There is something inherently amusing about a person so drunk they make an ass out of themselves; half of the content on YouTube is based on this. But why do I then feel like a dick for making fun of her?
In the end, I guess, I can assure myself that, if she'd passed out and someone was about to do something truly wrong to her, I'd have called the cops or something. And I can feel grateful that I haven't made a habit of getting anywhere near that drunk for a long, long time. (Also, during those college years before I learned how to not get utterly wasted, I never did any stripper moves when blitzed, I generally just vomited.)
Still, I don't feel good about myself for laughing at her. So, I'm sorry, drunk lady. Hope you made it home okay.
fuck the amateurs. they deserve to be laughed at. the pros stay home, in their red-sauce-stained undershirts, swilling gin from a 1.75 liter bottle and listening to Mahler.
Sorry, Joe. Can't muster up any sympathy for her either. In my drunkest state, I would never act like that. Too much Peg Gossiaux in me.Post a Comment