Sunday, July 23, 2006

I was standing on the point between drunk and sober. That tipping point where you could be drunk if you focused, but at the same time you could fake your own sobrity to any new beat cop running his flashlight across your head.

The vicisou place where one more drink could be too much, but you know the one in your hand is not enougn.

I was leaning on the pool table that was serving as our make-shift buffet. an odd assortment of bar food and nauseating meatball trays. I was easlily the tallest in the bar as this young woman - another man's wife - was talking to me. Leaning in and taking an angle that, from a distance, could have been bad for both parties.

I had heard about her being both annoying and yet damn good at her job. At this point the alcohol was settling nicely into my cells and whatever she was saying was lost in the wash of voices and bizarre scenes around me.

The director of advertising, a larger woman with no problem wielding the excess cleavage that spilled from her top, was grinding against several otehr women on the stage. The savages were literly licking, touching and provoking others to be as demented as them as they pulled on eachtoer's hair and clothes to become even more depravved.

My boss, a 30 something sports guy who was as passive aggressive as they come, was sitting at the bar with two women - i suppose you could call them that - under his arms as he too swayed and felt the music that was pulsating - not so much in rythm, but more like a waves on the beach. There is something steady about it, but every now and again one wipes you out and makes you relaize the sea is unpredictable - much like what I was witnessing from my perch at 6'4" in this bar.

I had set this woman, who works for a more respectable institution than myself, on a topic that I knew she would continue talking with little input from me. This was not becasue I felt superior, I wanted to talk to her and make some kind of impression, but I did not feel like talking about myself or what I do or something that required me to add anyhting of worth to the conversation.

"yeah, I agree..." "Are you kidding me?" "Wow, I can't beleive they did that." Was all I could muster at times.

Better to let someone else to do the talking in a situation where me opening my mouth could get me in trouble. I was in the mood for simply sitting and nodding, agreeing to whatever becasue I could barley hear her voice over the roar of hte bar.

I had never seen adult bahve this way. There was all the making of some drunken frat party. The alcohol had been so thick that the man we all where there to honor had left - passed out in the parking lot.

He had a good time.

It was closing time and those who did not have someone to go home with were qucikly snatching up their last drink from anyone who could still order for them.

"My friend thinks you're cute," I was told.

"Really? Is this the same friend who was making out with my boss earlier in the night."

She didn't get the joke. So, she moved on to the next guy down the bar who did not already have someone under his arm.

I walk out of the bar and leave alone. I don't feel alone, but there is something about coming home by yourself in this state of mind.

Well, here is to better things.