I told them I didn’t want to do shots.
Last night, we had a little get-together at a bar called Wizard’s. They have pool tables, dart boards, and a live band on some nights. My team had their outing there a few months ago, and apparently I gave them my birthday and mailing address. I got this card in the mail about getting the “skybox” for free with chips and salsa for my birthday, so I figured why the hell not, I’ll throw myself a party.
It was from 7-9pm that we had it for free, and it was getting close to 8pm, and no one had shown up. I started feeling kind of sad, thinking what a stupid idea it had been… when suddenly EVERYONE started showing up. At one point I think there was about twenty people up there in our little private corner.
Remind me not to play pool against Rain’s soccer coach again; he stomped my ass… repeatedly. 
Then the girls started doing shots. I really, really didn’t want to do shots; but you know how girls are… “c’mon, it’s your birthday!” and blah blah. So I did something called a buttery nipple then a shot of Jaeger then another shot of Jaeger and… well…
At nine we had to decide if we were going to leave the skybox or not; if not, I was going to be paying eighteen bucks an hour. I talked to my friends there, and they were like hell no we’re not leaving, several different people said they would cover it. I thought that was so, so nice of them.
Then at about 9:30, Scott had to leave to pick up the kids. we had brought them to a place that has “friday night out,” and you have to pick the kids up by ten. He volunteered to go get the kids so I could stay and hang out; another couple had their kids there and they did the same thing–he left, she stayed. Was great fun. I found out later that they paid for our kids to be there–she said that was their present to us. I couldn’t believe it–that was so super nice of them.
One of the guys who stayed (his wife, actually, was the one who was goign to drive us all home) thought that the bar wasn’t crowded, which it wasn’t, and why the hell should we have to pay to rent the skybox when no one would be using it anyways? Okay, I said… but if you want to have that battle with the manager, that’s up to you, I’m not getting into it. He did. And eventually he got the manager to agree to let us stay up there until eleven for free. So he rocks too.
What doesn’t rock is some of the prices they were charging me. Twenty bucks here and twenty bucks there really adds up. We had free chips and salsa, but we wanted queso too–that was $15 (enough for the room, in a warmer). After nine, when the room was no longer “free” persay, we had to pay to have the chips refilled too, and that was another fifteen or so. I mean, come on! Fifteen bucks for chips that I probably would have paid four bucks for two bags at the store?? But you’re there, and what are you gonna do, and I figured that the people who rent these skyboxes are usually rich anyways and they don’t give a shit how much they pay for those types of things. Well, I’m not… my final bill was about $78. I guess not bad–I was hoping to keep it under 100.
But besides that… after eleven, we moseyed our way down to the main room, where the live band was in full swing. We got three tables by the “dance floor” and pushed them together, and commenced talking, giggling, and dancing. It was great, great fun. I am so blessed to have the wonderful friends I have. The band played all kinds of great eighties stuff… but dude, they didn’t know any Police! Cathy and I were completley heartbroken. But… oh well.
And at one point, someone asked me about my brothers and sisters, and I told her I had two brothers and a sister, and that one had died. I said it’s okay, though, because I’ll see him someday soon… She said, “not soon…?” and I explained to her that I meant in the grand scheme of things, our lives are so short… not that I planned on dying tomorrow or something. I sat there for a moment, staring at my half-empty beer glass, and realized that I’m now older than Michael ever got to be… he never got to be thirty. I went back to the ladies’ room and had myself a little cry for a moment. Then, somewhere inside me, Jesus said, “stop it, you’re drunk. Michael’s fine up here in Heaven with me; get out there and have a good time with your friends.” You know, Jesus is always right. I went back out there, and had a good time for Michael AND me.
After some kind of confusion over my bill, and signing it twice, (I was starting to lose coherency at that point), it was time to go. My friend Julie (the wife of the manager-arguer) drove me and another friend home. I think we pulled over twice for me to get out… and one time I didn’t throw up, and one time I did. There was no way I was going to puke in her Beamer. Her husband got out of the car and held back my hair for me. My best friend Emily and I always had this saying–You know how good your friends are if they will hold back your hair while you’re puking. The situation made me think of that, and I smiled.
She pulled up front of my house, I got out, I think I said goodbye, went up the front steps, giggled the wrong key into the lock before Scott heard me and pulled the door open. I believe at that point I started stripping as I made my way to the bathroom, and I threw up again, then was asleep shortly thereafter.
Today… has… been… complete… HELL. I didn’t actually get out of bed until around 3pm, when I threw up again. I was in so much pain all day and was so sick to my stomach that I didn’t want to move. I drifted in and out of consciousness. I can easily say it was the worst hangover I have ever had in my life. At around 6pm, something broke at work, and I had to force myself into an upright position so Scott could give me my laptop, and I called my boss, and praise Jesus once again it was an easy problem to fix. Scott cajoled me into a shower, which didn’t really make me feel better, but at least I was clean (my hair had been a rat’s nest). Now I’m sitting on the couch, typing this, still with a headache but if I don’t move much it doesn’t hurt much. All day I have had about six saltine crackers, two small bottles of water (yes, purchased before the hurricane, don’t laugh at me), and a little thing of orange sugar free jello. That’s it. I don’t think I could handle much more at this point.
Scott has been an absolute angel to me. I have apologized over and over, and he keeps saying it’s ok. He checks on me every hour or so (not bothering me, but I can sense him sticking his head in the room), and he has taken care of the kids all day long. He took them to a birthday party at 10am, then he took them to Rain’s soccer game at two. I am so, so lucky to have the wonderful husband I have–I love him so much.
It’s always this image fight with me.
