Death By Stein

I know it's strange lately to see me post things two days in a row, but sometimes I really just have to tell the story before I forget it. Granted I probably already forgot about 60% of the story anyways due to alcohol, but it still needs to be told.

Last night, when I got off work at the hotel, I went up the street to The Great Nabob, collectively known as The Bar, My Bar, and My Real Home. I wasn't planning to go up there last night. I wanted to go home and unpack, and even maybe get some sleep. I did eventually sleep, but lets not skip to the end like that. The whole reason I even went up there was because my new boss said he'd be up there last night, so, obviously, he wasn't. And then events forced my hand, so I stayed for longer than I should have.

When you go to a bar where you know everyone it's a lot like Cheers, only without the corny music. But that means that you are at least partially beholden to all those people. So if someone's birthday starts at midnight, you stay, and because it's a bar, you drink. If you're anything like me (and I know all of you are) that means you drink a LOT. B-Rad, Ben, Palani, Heidi, Jeff, Jeff's dog Sadie, Carl, Clinton and his girlfriend, Devlin, Chris, Scotty, Jenny, Alicia, John, Allison, Me, and the birthday girl, Karla. That was the approximate population of the bar throughout the time I was there. Oh, and two people no one knew.

I started with three Yaze (a ginger infused vodka that I love) and tonics in about the first 20 minutes. Karla makes them doubles for me. After that I switched to beer for a bit, and had three of those in me as well by the time midnight rolled around. We had also been doing a little detective work on who had stolen the Maker's Mark painting, and had found the most likely suspect. To celebrate her birthday and the detective work Karla got everyone in the bar a Washington Apple. Normally none of us would drink that sort of thing, but it was a toast to the douche bags that were all out on Saturday when the painting was stolen. After that I had a few more shots. Jager, Jameson, Hornitos, some other mixed shot, and then another Jager.

I can safely say that at this point in time I was drunk because there is no other excuse for the things I did next. Honestly, who eats birthday cake and ice cream when they just drank what I did? And keep in mind it was only about 1 am at this point in time. Oh, and I was chasing my cake and ice cream with beer. Somewhere around this time is when B-Rad and I started chugging 16oz cans of Bitburger. It's also when my memory started getting strange, and time played tricks on me. During this time everyone but me, B-Rad, and Karla left. And then it happened. B-Rad pulled out the steins.

These steins are so huge they could engulf a 44oz Big Gulp with plenty of room to spare. And I do mean plenty. They're probably about the same volume as Das Boot. I think they are about 18 inches tall. And B-Rad put ice and beer in them. Why ice? Because the beer was warm, and he wanted to chug it. Apparently so did I. But half way through I had to stop to hit the can. Apparently I'm no longer in professional beer drinking shape anymore because I puked my guts out. I think it was the cake and ice cream that did it to me. The combination of that much sweet stuff, cream, and a horrendous mix of booze did me in. But at least I finished my stein when I was done. Along with another two or three beers. And then, at 4 am, we all left, and I drove home. I really miss living a block and a half away sometimes.