I had a birthday party last night. A real novelty for me. In recent years, I have been finding it harder and harder to conceal the 'significant' date from close friends, and so have begun to use it as an excuse to get together with a few people for dinner and some drinks - but never a party, as such. I don't think I've had a birthday party since I was 10 (and I didn't enjoy that one!).
However, I hadn't thrown a party in quite some time (not since my infamous series of 'leaving' parties back in June); and the b'day fell on a Friday this year. Fate, once again, seemed to be conspiring against me.
The crucial extra impetus came from my pal, The Barman - a friend for four years now, and by common consent amongst my crowd, the best barman in this city. For the past two years he has made my local hole-in-the-wall drinking den - the place I nickname 'The Haiku Bar', because it inspires my creative urges - the hottest spot in my district, and a second home for me. Now he has become a victim of his own success. His boss has just transferred him to a new bar (same neighbourhood, only slightly further away from my apartment), which is much larger, and comfortably appointed - but sadly lacking in customers. The place has been open three or four months now, and is still completely dead almost every night. And there is little chance of that improving now that the slow winter months are upon us. The Barman is keen to work his magic there, but I fear it is a Mission Impossible. However, I and his many other loyal customers will do our damnedest to help him.
Hence - the unaccustomed 'birthday party' last night. I managed to round up 30-40 assorted lowlifes, most of whom were tactful enough to say that I didn't look a day over 30 (or, in some slightly less tactful cases, over 35). I even had some strange (attractive, very young) women flirting with me - everybody loves a birthday boy!
The Barman came up with a 'birthday special' for me - a concoction known as the 'Dr Gary': beer with a cola top, and an amaretto depth-charge in it..... amazingly enough, it actually tastes quite nice. I suspect an over-indulgence in those may have been responsible for my sleeping in to 3pm this afternoon.
Another unwelcome sign of aging, that: I am starting to lose my fabled resiliency - for drinking, for late nights, for life....
Saturday, October 21, 2006
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Hey, at this point in your life, we had just met. I remember you sheepishly inviting all of us to the Barman's new hole in the wall den. Alas, I missed out on the fun because of trip back to Blue Sky/Clean Air, but I do remember you telling me afterwards that you'd gotten so drunk, you had no recollection of how your birthday was.
That should have been my first clue, eh?
And I hardly think you've lost your resiliency for "life"! If you stop now, who will serve as an "unsuitable role model" for those who start down the crooked path after you?
Though this does make me think of a fun country song I hear every now and then on the radio in the car on lovely long long drives in Blue Sky/Clean Air - It's a guy singing about how "I'm not as good as I once was, but..." something something something.
by the end of the song the singer manages to fight the fight with a buddy in a bar and take some ladies home, even though he's "not as good as he once was..."
Maybe British Cowboy knows this song? Can you fill in the lyrics for me Brit CB? I miss watching/listening to CMT on Saturday mornings and cranking up my country radio while driving down quiet highways in middle America, windows rolled down, horse ranches whizzing by, the green country air filling me up with the smell of a fresh summer rain or of an angry tornado headed my way.
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