It was 8:30 on Thursday night and my parents were just leaving my house. They said "Do you want us to take Ryder?"
That is how I got a babysitter on Thursday night. I was pretty upset for 5 minutes then decided to seize the opportunity. What should i do? Where should I go? It was too late to go anywhere far, and certainly too late for anyone to come over, so I went out solo.
I was going to go to this new bar down the street, but it was pretty packed and a bit preppy. Then, I thought of the Gulu Gulu Cafe. That place is hip. Too hip, it turns out. It was totally packed with hipsters and a guy with a guitar. So I settled on a pub, O'Neill's.
On my sister's advice, I sat at the bar opposed to a table. It was pretty uneventful for the first few rounds. I watched the red sox game from the night before. There was a guy and a girl next to me that needed to just go have sex somewhere. The bartender was amusing. Someone came in asking for Irish car bombs, but he said that they didn't do them. But they do jager bombs. Interesting.
I was on my last drink (so I though) and some guy started chatting with me. We will call him Joe (and for all I can remember, that just may be his real name). Joe was with a bunch of guys, one was having a birthday. They are townies. Born and raised in Salem. I remember Joe telling me that he was like 38. I was surprised, but then I remembered that I am dangerously close to 30. Hummf.
Anyways, these guys bought me another drink. I hung out with them for a while, then they were going to go back to some guy's house to smoke. I was totally in. We left the bar and smoked on the way over to the car.
Side note: I hadn't smoked pot in.... maybe... 5 years? I still puffed like a pro though! Like riding a bike, I suppose.
So we get into the car. (This is where it gets good.) They stop at a drive-thru to get some food. I think I got nauseous and wanted to step out of the car. So, I get out of the car, while they are in the drive-thru. Then I tell them that I am going to go home. They offer me a ride, but I insist that I only live down the street. They feel bad. I leave.
How dumb did I look?!? Jumping out of the car in the middle of the drive-thru? And, I did not live "just down the street". It wasn't wicked far, but over a mile. Maybe two. Pretty far when you are drunk and stoned.
At this point, I made a couple of phone calls. To friends on the west coast. Was I lucid enough to only call people in farther time zones because it was late? And I texted and called my friend Sam. I talked to him for about an hour (or so my phone told me the next day." What could we possibly have been talking about for that long? At 1:30 am? I remember going home and dropping off my stuff then going back out. I remember being on the phone with him and taking laps around the city. Probably not the safest thing, in hindsight.
Did I think I was in college again? So much fun, though. I slept until 1:00 the next day. I really think it was the pot that did me in. I think I'm gonna call Sam today and ask him what we talked about. And why he was up so late. And if I should regret anything I said.