One might be able to say that I made it back safely from Pomona last week. Eric found me at the San Jose airport and brought me back to Santa Cruz. At home was our friend Stef who was visiting from San Francisco. When we arrived, it was decided that dinner was to be bought and consumed. In result, the Hula Grill became our destination.
Upon leaving for dinner there was not much of a break for me; I got on an airplane, left Southern California, arrived in San Jose, Eric picked me up, came home, dropped off my baggage, and walked out the door to go to the Hula Grill. I hadn’t even gotten my keys out of my suitcase. I brought this to Eric’s attention when leaving, and he replied back that he had his, so no worries.
After dinner we decided to take on the drinking outlet. A slight debate arose when Stef indicated that he wanted to go to the Poet and the Patriot and that Eric and I wanted to make a visit at the Red. An equilibrium was created: we would go to the Red first and then the Poet, that simple. The night was early so we knew that both places wouldn’t be that crowded.
The Red was the usual setup. We arrived when it was still young and calm in the evening, which meant there was no wait for a drink, and no problem finding a seat. I was in heaven since a certain bartender was working. Those who have been with me at the Red when this person is working know exactly what I’m talking about. Evan, my Sundance companion, was in town and made an appearance at the Red as well. So there we were, four guys sitting at a booth, drinking beer, and oozing testosterone.
We left since Stef was eager about making a visit to the Poet & the Patriot. I don’t remember much about that visit simply due to the fact that we were not there for very long. We sat at a table, bought a round of drinks and then left. Not much to say. We were debating about going home, and then I popped up and mentioned the idea of stopping by the 515, a slightly newer restaurant/bar that we’ve visited a handful of times.
Little did I know that the 515 would be the end of our night. The four of us had no problem finding seats at the bar. There was Leon, the bartender, who was the one who helped us out in the past. This girl Amy showed up who knew Stef from a past life. She stuck around for a while and one of her friends made herself comfortable with Eric. Stef had/has a crush on this Amy individual and made a point of talking to her a lot. However, she revealed what would be Stef’s Kryptonite: an engagement ring. This drew Stef back a bit but he still maintained up close interaction with her. Evan at some point took off. What was I doing? I was buying $12 glasses of whiskey and “befriending” two drunk local guys.
My two new friends, who I decided to name Bobo and Little Devil, were doing the typical heterosexual “bro” thing: eyes focusing on anything that had skin and estrogen, making rude comments to each other about their sightings, the usual stuff. Bobo asked me, “Hey, you know what a guy can’t live without?”
I knew where this was going but decided to give the opposite answer, “Bones.”
“What? No, man!” Bobo didn’t accept this answer. I mean, he recognized the fact that a guy could not live without bones, but the answer he wanted rhymed with stussy.
Eventually, the Amy individual wounded up on my side of the bar and interacted with Bobo and Little Devil, and then Stef wound up over here too. Eric was locked in conversation with Amy’s friends, who I didn't really get to interact with. To my right was three men being pulled into the flirtatious gravitational pull of the Amy individual, and then to my left was Eric and his new crew.
It was just me and the glass of Van Winkle whiskey. I wasn't looking in Eric's direction and had no connection with Stef and friends. Eventually, Eric and his new team headed downstairs and some time after that, Stef disappeared with the Amy individual and Bobo & Little Devil. I was at the bar by myself, everyone had left me. I saw Eric’s jacket, grabbed it and migrated home.
While walking down Laurel Street, I realized, as mentioned earlier, that I did not have my keys on me. I was hoping that Eric was possibly home at this point, maybe partying it up with the new individuals from the bar. However, when I arrived, no such luck. I broke into the house, which required me to detach the screen, slide my bedroom window open, and find a way to pull myself up and through the window. I used a garbage can to provide a boost since my drunken state and overall weak body could not manage to pull myself up. The goddamn indoor cat we have wanted to be curious and social at the window and I had to keep knocking it off the window sill to prevent it from getting any ideas of escaping. I found my way into my bedroom and had no idea how to get that damn screen back on so I just closed the window itself. I had no idea what the state of affairs my social colleagues were in but I left the front door unlocked for Stef and I got in my pajamas and went to bed.
Fifteen minutes later, I heard ding-dong. I knew it was Stef, and I knew he would be insanely drunk, and I thought I knew he would just plow through the door, but I was wrong. He rang the doorbell. I got out of bed and opened the door. He came running upstairs and asked me if I was good to drive. Although walking home and breaking into my own home was a buzzkill, I was still not ready to get behind an automobile. Stef carried on a conversation about a fight that broke out and his sole purpose was to break it up; apparently the police came and the Amy individual was driving everyone home and demanded Stef to get back in the car.
After I convinced Stef that there was no driving back to the set of Fight Club, he was still hyperactive from his recent encounters. He heard our neighbors talking and fled downstairs to talk with them. Of course, he left the door open. The next words I hear are, “Peter, can you get Zero?” No way am I hunting down a black cat at 2am after I broke in my house and walked home wasted. Thankfully the cat was just sitting on some dirt and was easily accessible. We went back inside, Stef went on another rant about… well, I just don’t remember. I eventually went to slumberland.
I believe Eric walked in shortly after Stef and I settled down. The next morning, the three of us were in the living room comparing our evenings; Evan called and was down to meet up. Since some of us were experiencing hang overs and other wonders, a round of Bloody Marys was desired. We went to get our day going.
Upon leaving for dinner there was not much of a break for me; I got on an airplane, left Southern California, arrived in San Jose, Eric picked me up, came home, dropped off my baggage, and walked out the door to go to the Hula Grill. I hadn’t even gotten my keys out of my suitcase. I brought this to Eric’s attention when leaving, and he replied back that he had his, so no worries.
After dinner we decided to take on the drinking outlet. A slight debate arose when Stef indicated that he wanted to go to the Poet and the Patriot and that Eric and I wanted to make a visit at the Red. An equilibrium was created: we would go to the Red first and then the Poet, that simple. The night was early so we knew that both places wouldn’t be that crowded.
The Red was the usual setup. We arrived when it was still young and calm in the evening, which meant there was no wait for a drink, and no problem finding a seat. I was in heaven since a certain bartender was working. Those who have been with me at the Red when this person is working know exactly what I’m talking about. Evan, my Sundance companion, was in town and made an appearance at the Red as well. So there we were, four guys sitting at a booth, drinking beer, and oozing testosterone.
We left since Stef was eager about making a visit to the Poet & the Patriot. I don’t remember much about that visit simply due to the fact that we were not there for very long. We sat at a table, bought a round of drinks and then left. Not much to say. We were debating about going home, and then I popped up and mentioned the idea of stopping by the 515, a slightly newer restaurant/bar that we’ve visited a handful of times.
Little did I know that the 515 would be the end of our night. The four of us had no problem finding seats at the bar. There was Leon, the bartender, who was the one who helped us out in the past. This girl Amy showed up who knew Stef from a past life. She stuck around for a while and one of her friends made herself comfortable with Eric. Stef had/has a crush on this Amy individual and made a point of talking to her a lot. However, she revealed what would be Stef’s Kryptonite: an engagement ring. This drew Stef back a bit but he still maintained up close interaction with her. Evan at some point took off. What was I doing? I was buying $12 glasses of whiskey and “befriending” two drunk local guys.
My two new friends, who I decided to name Bobo and Little Devil, were doing the typical heterosexual “bro” thing: eyes focusing on anything that had skin and estrogen, making rude comments to each other about their sightings, the usual stuff. Bobo asked me, “Hey, you know what a guy can’t live without?”
I knew where this was going but decided to give the opposite answer, “Bones.”
“What? No, man!” Bobo didn’t accept this answer. I mean, he recognized the fact that a guy could not live without bones, but the answer he wanted rhymed with stussy.
Eventually, the Amy individual wounded up on my side of the bar and interacted with Bobo and Little Devil, and then Stef wound up over here too. Eric was locked in conversation with Amy’s friends, who I didn't really get to interact with. To my right was three men being pulled into the flirtatious gravitational pull of the Amy individual, and then to my left was Eric and his new crew.
It was just me and the glass of Van Winkle whiskey. I wasn't looking in Eric's direction and had no connection with Stef and friends. Eventually, Eric and his new team headed downstairs and some time after that, Stef disappeared with the Amy individual and Bobo & Little Devil. I was at the bar by myself, everyone had left me. I saw Eric’s jacket, grabbed it and migrated home.
While walking down Laurel Street, I realized, as mentioned earlier, that I did not have my keys on me. I was hoping that Eric was possibly home at this point, maybe partying it up with the new individuals from the bar. However, when I arrived, no such luck. I broke into the house, which required me to detach the screen, slide my bedroom window open, and find a way to pull myself up and through the window. I used a garbage can to provide a boost since my drunken state and overall weak body could not manage to pull myself up. The goddamn indoor cat we have wanted to be curious and social at the window and I had to keep knocking it off the window sill to prevent it from getting any ideas of escaping. I found my way into my bedroom and had no idea how to get that damn screen back on so I just closed the window itself. I had no idea what the state of affairs my social colleagues were in but I left the front door unlocked for Stef and I got in my pajamas and went to bed.
Fifteen minutes later, I heard ding-dong. I knew it was Stef, and I knew he would be insanely drunk, and I thought I knew he would just plow through the door, but I was wrong. He rang the doorbell. I got out of bed and opened the door. He came running upstairs and asked me if I was good to drive. Although walking home and breaking into my own home was a buzzkill, I was still not ready to get behind an automobile. Stef carried on a conversation about a fight that broke out and his sole purpose was to break it up; apparently the police came and the Amy individual was driving everyone home and demanded Stef to get back in the car.
After I convinced Stef that there was no driving back to the set of Fight Club, he was still hyperactive from his recent encounters. He heard our neighbors talking and fled downstairs to talk with them. Of course, he left the door open. The next words I hear are, “Peter, can you get Zero?” No way am I hunting down a black cat at 2am after I broke in my house and walked home wasted. Thankfully the cat was just sitting on some dirt and was easily accessible. We went back inside, Stef went on another rant about… well, I just don’t remember. I eventually went to slumberland.
I believe Eric walked in shortly after Stef and I settled down. The next morning, the three of us were in the living room comparing our evenings; Evan called and was down to meet up. Since some of us were experiencing hang overs and other wonders, a round of Bloody Marys was desired. We went to get our day going.
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