Ready for the weekend?
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Once every so often, my girlfriends and I like to embark on an amnesiac adventure where we hop around bars like a bunch of bunnies. Essentially we become bar bunnies. We hippity-hop ourselves into a limbo of over-inebriation and we have a blast doing it. The problem we usually face is getting downtown — usually it’s my fault. It doesn’t take me a ridiculous amount of time to get ready, it just takes me a ridiculous amount of time to get to getting ready. By the time we make it downtown, it’s always after midnight and it’s always really late. That’s probably where it really begins. Because we start the night so late, we have a lot of ground to cover in so little time. Our first stop is where we begin the rounds of shots. I know red dragons seem like such an “asian” thing but it sure does get the job done. In case you’re wondering what a red dragon is, it’s Bacardi 151 and Sour Puss as a shot. Barf.
We don’t ease our way into a good time, we bust through the doors. On our way home from Mexico, we saw a girl wearing a shirt that said, “If you don’t want to party, DON’T F***ING COME!” (minus the asterisks). Anyways, back to Sleeve Nights. We pop into places, say hi to our favourite bouncers, promoters, bartenders and DJs. Let me tell you something: all of these cats will not let you leave without making sure they’ve fired up a few rounds with you. And by a few, I mean NOT a few. They force alcohol down your throat like it’s holy water and they’re trying to exorcise the sober demon out of you. It’s a miracle we even make it out alive and onto the next one. Without fail, we always hit up some kind of food joint before heading on home. Megabite is our favourite. Once, someone who had partied with us said to me the next day, “Wow, you love your pizza.” I asked him what he meant. He said we had stopped at two different Megabites walking from Gastown to Granville. Another time, I had thrown up spinach the next morning and asked my friends if we had gone to Megabite and if I had eaten spinach-topping pizza. Sure did.
Some of our best memories come from fending off the creeps (no offense, just need a name for you). We walk down Granville St. and the number of guys that try to hit on my friends makes me feel like we’re in a real life game of the new Call of Duty. We ain’t calling! Your duty is to stay the hell away. A thought came to me the other day: Sometimes, it is a blessing and a curse to know me. Let me explain. For example, my best friend works at a cab company. Someone had lost their phone and my best friend was trying to find a number she could contact to return the phone. In doing so, she saw my name in the contact list and told me she was going to call me and to tell her what name came up. I knew the person and had then proceeded to message her on Facebook to let her know her phone had been found and to collect it at the cab office. Blessing. Now on the flip side, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows knowing me – that is if you’re trying to run your game on my friends. The same night we had the major pizza itch, Michelle and I were sitting facing each other in front of Megabite #2 waiting for our friends. A guy had come from behind me and started talking to us, eyes on the prize: Michelle. He starts to say, “Hay. I’m from out of town ….” Before he could continue, I cut him off and give him a raised eyebrow. “John. We went to college together. ” (John isn’t his real name) He finally sees me and face palms. Michelle and I burst out laughing and she asks him if that line actually works. He said that it actually does. Nice try, buddy. Curse.
Today I woke up in bed with no recollection of how I had gotten there. I had my makeup and pants still on … and that was it. I must’ve given up midway changing into my jammies. I looked at my phone and saw I had missed calls and messages from friends asking where I had gone. My friends said that we were outside of Fritz and when they turned around, I was gone. Another Houdini , typical Amie. I tend to wander a lot; my friends say they’re going to put a leash on me the next time we’re out. Nobody could answer how I had gotten home. I asked my sister if she had picked me up and she told me I had called her and told her where I was. At this time, I was still with my friends because she said I asked one of them what cross street we were on. No more than ten minutes later, she was downtown and no more than forty missed calls later, I had picked up and told her, “I told you I was going home.” What?!!! There was no way because then she wouldn’t have come. I’m an idjot. People are saying maybe I took a cab. I don’t know, I highly doubt it because I hate cabbing, especially alone. It doesn’t make sense that I would hop into a cab all by my lonesome drunken self, ditch my friends and head home. It’s nearing the end of the day and I still have no idea how I got home. The mystery lives on. I have a feeling I’ll find out one day.By the way, if you’re reading this and can fill me in on this blank space in my life, that’d be greatly appreciated. All in all, I’m thankful and blessed that I can even make it home safely, topless or not. This goes out to all the good people in the world that make this happen. I’m about to hang up my shoes and close in on retirement for this kind of epicness. It is exhausting. So, what can you take from this?
a) Head downtown early and ease into appropriate inebriation
b) Be in good and trustworthy company
c) Don’t be a jerk and make your sister come pick you up while you make your way home
d) Avoid places where your bouncer, promoter, bartender or DJ friends will be
e) Strap a video camera to your forehead
f) Stay away from red dragons
g) Wear a leash if you’re going to unleash the red dragon in you. *cue song:
Other than my phone, the only hard evidence I have that can piece together my night is looking down at my arm and seeing the collection of stamps we gathered throughout the night. As a collective, the stamps form a “sleeve” like a tattoo. Hence “Sleeve Nights.” Welcome to the club; you’ve been warned. Cheers to you and your future amnesiac adventures with your friends. Rock on and rock hard.
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