March (17th) Madness

It's been a week now, and I still can't fully remember what happened on St. Paddy's Day. I contemplated not writing about it at all, as I have no way of being totally sure what is and isn't true. However, it's been a long, long time since I partied in such a fashion, so I figured I could at least make an effort to summarize the night. Most of what is written below was either told to me or pieced together through a vague, foggy memory.
The night began at my friend Maggie's house. Her friend/roommate, Emily, is a world-renowned chef (well, not really, but I hear she's awesome in the kitchen and loves to cook). To get in the spirit of St. Patrick's (who wasn't even Irish) Day, Emily decided to make Irish soda bread and shepherd's pie. Maggie was then given permission to invite her friends to dinner, where we would eat, drink a little, and then go downtown to celebrate the holiday. It sounds innocent enough, yes, but innocence can only be taken so far.

Here's where things went right:
- soda bread, good
- shepherd's pie, good
- Irish music, good
- Irish car bomb's, good (although here's where things started to turn)

Things went fubar when I (actually, it was Stacey's fault) drank a 40oz of St. Ides with dinner. Yes, I was drinking, as one should do on St. Paddy's Day, but it seems Guinness or some other "good" beer would have been more appropriate. Anyway, the 40 of St. Ides was followed by an Irish car bomb. This is simply a shot of Irish cream and whiskey, dropped in a pint of Guinness, then chugged as one drink. It sounds horrid, but the combination creates a beautiful chocolate milkshake taste. Hmm.
So, now that I had enough alcohol to keep me intoxicated for a good couple hours, we decide to go downtown. The problem now was, how to fit 8 people into one sober person's car. Somehow we did it. Emily's boyfriend stuffed us all into his suburban, and we drove to a transit station, where we caught the light-rail downtown.
Before we knew it, downtown was upon us. We went to Kells Irish pub, where, supposedly, the Northwest's biggest St. Paddy's Day festival was taking place. It was, in fact too big, as the the line and cover charge was enough deterrent for us to go somewhere else. Luckily, we only had to walk across the street to a place called Barcode. This is where my memory starts to fade, because the first thing I did was buy Casey and I a shot each of Tequila and a beer to follow. Somehow I forgot that I was already a little drunk and that Tequila was the last thing I needed.
And if the amount of liquor consumed thus far wasn't indicative enough of my intoxication, the fact that I proceeded to the dance floor was. Yes, I hit the dance floor like there was no tomorrow. Part of it had to do with the fact that the Bay Area's own E-40 and Keak da Sneak's song, Tell Me When to Go, was on, and I had to get hyphy. And did I ever. Before I knew it, I was being pulled down from a stage where all the hot girls were dancing. Apparently, it was a girls-only stage, and they were there for show, not to be danced with. How was I supposed to know? Sounds sexist to me.
As the night went on, and Casey and I kept throwing back shots and beers, we decided to be adventurous and go to another club. While on the way, I struck up a conversation with a homeless fellow who was from San Francisco. Now, we all know my infatuation with the City, so the dude instantly became my friend. We walked, we chatted, I think I may have even given him a dollar. I miss that guy. Anyway, to say the least, I was happy and sociable...to the point where I was making friends with homeless dudes.
We finally made it to the club, and this is where things got ugly. From what I was told, while we were waiting in line at the Voodoo Lounge, the bouncer let a group of people in before us. Apparently this angered Maggie to the point of sheer rage, as she began wildin' out on dude. When she got in the bouncers face, he pushed her back. This created a domino effect, and everyone behind her fell. I wish I could remember that, as I'm sure the succession of people falling probably was a little bit comical. At the time, though, I guess I didn't find humor in it, as I got pissed and pushed the guy (or so I'm told). Maggie then got up and came back with a vengence. Little did the bouncer know, but Maggie is NCI trained and is well adept at putting fools in CCPs (this is work-related lingo for restraining people). Word is, she started swinging on him and had to be restrained herself. I guess it caused enough of a seen that the cops came. Well, that was just great, because I get along so well with the police. Now, I didn't assault any of them, as I've been known to do, but I did carry on a conversation that was, shall we say, less than polite. I guess it wasn't rude enough, though, because we escaped the situation without any further problems.
By this time, it was 2:00 AM, and we were all a little tired. We walked to the bus stop, where we expected the light-rail to come and take us home. After waiting for 15 minutes, we finally gave up and decided to take a cab. We waited so long, I finally grew agitated an started walking. The only problem was that the Burnside Bridge stood in my way and there was no sidewalk. Did this bother me? No, not in the least. I am grateful, though, that my friends and coworkers were concerned and they didn't allow me to wander off too far (that could have been bad). When at long last a cab finally stopped for us, we were all delighted. I took the front seat and everybody who hadn't yet disappeared crowded into the back. Maggie made it clear that we could all stay at her house. It made the most sense, as our cars were there and nobody was sober enough to drive. However, as the cab traversed across Portland to Maggie's neighborhood, I realized that we would be driving near my house. All of the sudden, my bed (well, really it's a mat on the floor) sounded really appealing. So when I had a chance, I told the cab to stop so I could walk to my house. I gave the cabbie $20 to cover the fare for the gang as they continued on, and then I hopped out. Now, the problem with my quick departure is that I didn't fully think it out. Nor did I explain to anybody why I was getting out...I just did it. They had no idea that I lived in the area, and were left totally confused when all of the sudden I disappeared from the cab. And to find out the next morning, they didn't realize I gave the cabbie $20. This meant he was paid twice and got away with a pretty nice tip. It's not devastating, but $20 is two hours worth of wrestling kids at work.
The other problem with my quick, and not-well-thought out departure, was that I was left without a car in the morning; it was at Maggie's. The good news was that I didn't need the car, as I stayed in bed re-hydrating until 3 or 4 in the afternoon. In fact, I didn't leave the house until Old offered to take me to Maggie's on the way to a movie (see Lazy Afternoon post).
All in all it was a good night. There were lots of laughs and happy moments. I wish I could remember more, but perhaps it's better I can't.


Pooter said...

It is soooo not my fault that you drank the 40 of St. Ides!!! Like I opened your mouth and poured it down your throat, Ppppaaalease.
Oh, by the way...you forgot to mention you running down the streets with your little robotic run :)

Oldie said...

Nice yarn, ye Irish feck...one of these days I'll have to write about your turn as Franz Kafka's Metamophosis beetle.

ann said...

Wow. I split a martini three ways with my friends on St. Paddy's Day. Yes, yes, I'm a pussy, I know.

Sunriz80 said...

I think I had the pleasure of talking with you, while you waited at the transit station. I can say that you did sound like you had finished a 40 at dinner.
You were dancing? Now, I will not believe that until I see it. I had to force you to go to prom. I think I even found your date and tux. I miss you.