MLK Day, 2nd Edition...

In the spirit of tradition, I proudly present my 2^nd Annual Martin Luther King Day post.

I spent MLK eve similar to how I spent it last year:   getting shit-faced drunk with ex-coworkers and getting into ridiculous situations, punctuated with people running from me.

Part I.  Spirit

I drug timmy out to see a New Orleans brass band at Under the Volcano.

I had a whiskey smash to start, and not to ruin the surprise, but whiskey won…not that I even had a chance, given the 7:30pm start.

The band was excellent, but, the company,  ah…not so much.  The entire time we were there, I felt the annoying need to keep checking behind me, only to see timmy on his fucking phone, texting for Back-up to come save him.  So, as could only be expected:

I found all the company I needed in the bottom of my whiskey glass.

Part II.  Tradition

The dance floor = one girl, who was trying to do a borderline sexy dance to a brass band.  Everyone knows this is impossible, and it took everything in me to not get up and show her my snap move, but due to the company, I felt censored, which is not a good look for me, because no one puts Baby in a corner.

I noticed the older couple sitting across from us looking at the dance floor disapprovingly, and since I identify with that generation more in terms of a lot of shit, I threw out the following, as a token of encouragement and acknowledgement of our shared misery,

“Well, are you two going to go out there and dance, or are we just going to have to watch her all night?”

They smiled and laughed.

Then they left.

Although they didn’t technically run, I still didn’t think their hasty exit was in any way warranted.  But when timmy came back from the bar, he passed them on his way over, and put the two together, so he just shook his head at me like the social degenerate that I am and gave me my 2^nd whiskey smash, so I got over it.

Parts III-The End.  Spirit!

(! as in:  factorial, not a superfluous exclamation point)

Once Back-up arrived, we quickly brought the group up to speed on any formalities and major news items and then we drank to the times we had lost.  The brass band finished shortly after and I was the only girl, so I won again with the choice in venue and we ended up at Big Easy, Social and Pleasure Club.

Uh, this is why girls should not be allowed to make decisions.  What has proven to be a fun night filled with dancing and ridiculousness for me and Sasha, conversely proved to be beyond awkward with me and the Brothers Darkness.

I’m pretty sure, that an Asian girl, walking into Big Easy, with two, tall and nervous-looking Indian dudes, was not on anyone’s list of shit they might see walk through the door that night, and they take all kinds there.  I distinctly remember the black dudes looking at us like we were lost, the white dudes looking at us like I might have been kidnapped– Having the music screech to a halt and hearing ‘oh SHIT’ violently whispered and would have made for a more subtle entrance (and more familiar one, I might add)–but I dunno really:  Thanks to Dr. Martin Luther King, the only color I could see was the bar, and I made my way over to it quickly.

I bought myself and the Brothers a round of beer, as penance for my transgression.

Quick tip:  the Big Easy has amazing beer prices and excellent live music, and apparently bbq on Sundays, which smelled delicious.

After drinking our one round of beer, our sole attempt to prove to ourselves that we were only imagining the oppressive awkwardness; Back-up recommended we take our Tour of Asia to an even bigger hole-in-the-wall place, called the Marquis.

Upon our arrival, and in celebration of our lives, he bought us a round of Long Island Iced Teas…

Annnd, this is why boys should not be allowed to make decisions.  To the Marquis’ credit though, I have never seen a Long Island actually served in a fucking ‘Enjoy Coca-Cola’ plastic cup.  Not that I’ve actually even been served one over the span of 7-8 years or so…so, forgive me if this isn’t news.

Once we find our way over to the best table in the house, timmy, in a drunken-ninja move, spills all 22-or so ounces of assorted liquors in one deft motion–no worries though, we seamlessly diverted our path and settled on a new table, like nothing happened.  To our surprise, the spill was cleaned and a new drink appeared, which almost never happens…  Magic.

Well, I suppose Back-up had something to do with it, which makes sense because he was the most sober one, so I’m sure he made a good case for timmy, but I’m also pretty sure that if I ever owned a bar, and someone spilled their LIT, I would tell them,

“Got away from you, eh?  I suppose it was never really yours to begin with, now, was it?  Such is life.

Settle on a beer, then?”

…as I pointed to a sign that I made specifically to support me in this argument…everyone knows that drunks can’t argue with signs.

And I would have spelling bees.

FFWD:  Taco Bell

The Tour of Asia, spent $26 at Taco Bell.  That’s right, son.

The order was so ridiculous, that timmy and I tried to convince Back-up to tip the cashier…

The next day, timmy said, “I have no idea where my credit card was, or what it was doing, but Back-up didn’t tip the Taco Bell guy.”

Happy post-MLK Day.

xoxo,

-k