The original plan: A farewell party for a friend moving to give true love its due
The gathering was pretty much as expected. D, T & I landed up to find a group of friendly, hyper-networked, high-achieving folks, with some having graduated from Harvard, etc. My first thought was that I was happy to have had assistance of the vapor kind prior to the event. Everything is 100X more entertaining when high. The person we were there for is pretty cool, but I didn't know her very well yet, and in a place as loud as that, it's just tough to hold a proper conversation anyway. Plus, she had other folks to attend to as well. I texted N to ask if he was coming, and he said "not likely". But our departing friend was having none of that, so being the sensitive soul that I am, I texted him again & said that he should. After a couple of texts (enough to make him feel sufficiently important & in demand), he landed up with a friend. A designer. Nice enough chap. Unfortunately, I have forgotten what exactly he designs. Already having slammed 3 drinks by then (wine + sake), the idea of going to another bar on Polk suddenly sounded infinitely more appealing than it would have minus those drinks.
Deviation from plan: A different bar on Polk
When we get there, it turns out that there was an agenda. Of the female kind. No surprise, as there always is one, with N. It turned out that she's from out of town, is pretty nice, and has 5-6 friends with her - they are gathered here from all over the US to vacation together... nice! The place was PACKED and one can't breathe without causing a human wave by merely that action. We proceeded to drink even more. N proceeded to tell the chick that I was a masseuse specializing in tantric massages. Uproarious laughter ensued. After 10 mins, to the side, she asked me "are you really a masseuse?". Clearly she does not know N too well yet. I was wearing my David Hasselhoff fan club T-shirt and showed it to my new friends. A German fellow walks up to me and says, "nobody believes me when I tell them that people love him in Germany". I assured him that I had several German friends who had told me that, and at least one that I trusted implicitly, so I saw no reason to doubt him. By this time, I was starting to get to the point of "I'm not going to remember tomorrow what I say from now on", so I decided to stick with my own from then on.
Deviation from deviation: After hours house party
After the last few bar patrons (us) were finally herded/shoved out by the bouncers, someone uttered the sweetest words to ever escape anyone's lips at 2 a.m. in the US: "let's go to such-and-such house party". Now...often, this person is me. Over the years, I've subjected M to several such impromptu parties at 2:15 a.m., spill-overs from seemingly harmless 6 p.m. happy hours after work. Anyway, back to the point: this time, it was not me. Some part of my brain that still had some tenuous hold on reality remembered that because Papa was home, I could not take my 10 new BFFs home with me. We bundled up into cabs and headed to this house party. After parking ourselves on one of the couches, a can of beer appeared, and was duly consumed. The girls & I were inseparable by now, more likely due to the dearth of seating space than my unfailing charm. Numbers were exchanged, and promises made to stay in touch forever and ever. As abruptly as he had disappeared, N re-appeared with the chick. A few minutes later, a guy came up to him/us, visibly upset, and said "that was NOT cool, dude. I don't even know you. That wasn't RIGHT!". Then he asked N to leave. Obviously, we stood by our man and left with him. Upon being pressed for details, N revealed that he and the chick were, um, getting to know each other better, and the room they happened to pick was his. Understandably, knowing neither party involved, he took offense to their choice of locations in which to conduct their business.
The finale: N's place, the volcano, and missing time
Being unceremoniously ejected in this manner took its toll on our drunken stupor, reducing it just enough to enable us to locate a cab. We headed to N's place to resume our single-minded pursuit of being totally obliterated (by this time, caution had been thrown to the wind (if you recall, more intoxicants than one were at work), and it had been decided that Papa's guilt trip about being out too late, leading to him worrying ceaselessly, would be dealt with when the time came... cross that bridge when it's got to, and all that). Anyway, we get to N's by around 4, promptly put the volcano to good use, and talk random gibberish for a couple of mins. I think. Then I topple to the side like a baby who hasn't quite figured out the concept of balance, and promptly pass out. I wake up in a couple of hours, see it's past 6 a.m., and my first thought is "FUUUUUCK. I have to go home to Papa". Dropped designer boy off on the way, and then snuck back into my own apartment with the stealth of a persistently errant spouse. As predicted, guilt trip was delivered, and duly accepted, later in the morning.
