111405I worriedly looked on as Joe handed me the first aid tape. He pushed his hand against the cold glass and steadied it as best he could in his present condition. I found an area that lacked his standard mass of hair and began taping. I wound it once, twice, three times. He wiggled his pinky, signaling the need for more tape. I secured his smallest finger and barely managed to yank my hand away before he raised his towards the center of the table. There I sat at Joe�s dining room table, surrounded by him, Jay, Ben and Mike racing against time and their bladders. My virginal eyes watched the round of Edward 40-hands in part shock, part amusement. Were they really going to drink all that beer? The conversation was jolted by the frequent pauses in speech to take a swig of malt liquor. At times, I felt like I was at a stutterer�s convention. I signed up for an evening of food, drinks and good company. And the company I was promised included fellow females, not fellas. After nursing a can of Pabst, I grudgingly walked to the fridge and pulled out an Olde English �800.� Soon after, my left hand followed suit and found itself secured to the chilly bottle by clear tape. When in Rome. As the beer went from bottle to stomach, the references to balls and other things manly increased ten-fold. Luckily for me, the lone chick in the place, I began to care less and less. I noticed the haze midway through my rendition of Edward 40-hand. The guys finished before me, naturally, and rejoiced at their ability to pee and smoke a cigarette again. Joe ripped off my bottle as I finished the last warm swig and I made a beeline for the bathroom. Afterwards, something inside propelled me towards the fridge for another beer. As I resumed my seat at the table, I began to notice just how tired and just how drunk I was, but I kept drinking. Maybe it was the part of me that secretly wishes I was �one of the guys,� maybe it was stupidity, but that one Honey Weiss had left me with a bad case of the spins. I hurriedly scrubbed my face and brushed my teeth, then tip-toed into the bedroom, hoping I could slink off to sleep with no one noticing. I tore off my clothes and dove under the covers, shivering from the lack of heat. As I laid there trying to think of everything but the way the room seemed to swirl, I heard Joe and Jay come in. I stiffened and held my breath. I didn�t want to converse with anyone; I wanted to sleep. Jay cracked a joke and in turn, cracked me. I began giggling beneath the covers. Thankfully, they left me alone without a fight. The clock told me it was before midnight, but I needed sleep. I thought about the joke again and resumed giggling, falling asleep with a smile on my face. Between the dirty jokes and beer guts, I had one hell of a memorable Saturday night.
|