So, last night (Saturday) I went bar hopping with a buddy. As we all know by this point (or should know) I am not a bar person. At all. Ever. I have never been to a bar. I've never been bar hopping. This was all new to me and, admittedly, I was excited by it. New experiences are exciting by their nature.
I threw on my sexy clothes (otherwise known as the stuff I bought at Kohls that everyone said looked good on me), hopped into my buddy's car, and we took off. Our first bar was a bust. We didn't have any drinks at it because it was ... well, it was filled with a bunch of country boys watching football.
We hit the next bar. It had a much wider variety of patrons (there were actual good looking girls there, in other words) but they had a band playing. The band was playing country. Neither of us were particularly enthused with the musical choice so we left and hit our third bar.
This place was decent enough and we actually bought some beer (Bud Light). I don't drink beer. I've never had any Bud Light before, so I gave it a shot. I got the lowdown on the rules of bar hopping (taking in a drink at every bar is a rule but we kinda broke that early on, apparently). We drifted outside to the empty deck to talk to some girls.
Well, women. Older women. They looked like girls from behind. I quickly zoned off and watched one of the college football games while my buddy quizzed the ladies on where the good times were on a Saturday night. He finished his beer in quick order.
I took three sips of mine. Small sips. It was comical to see how he had downed his glass and mine was still very full-looking.
We left there and hit up another bar. This place had some class, had a dance floor, and even managed to have some decent music. Unfortunately, the bar patrons were also quite older. Like on-social-security-older. They could dance but I was afraid they would literally break a leg if they fell.
We had a shot (a cherry bomb I believe) and it was good. It hit me pretty fast but he was still fine. He was an old pro at this. We left out of there and hit up his favorite bar, which was having a Zombie party. Most people weren't dressed up as zombies, but we jumped in there. This would be the bar where we spent most of the night.
I was pretty buzzed at this point and decided to go for drunk. Since it was my first bar hopping experience and I didn't have to be at work till 1PM (which wasn't nearly enough time to recover in retrospect) I had me an Alabama Slammer (that I had never heard of before), and we started playing pool with a couple.
Pool + booze = fun. I was a bit rusty at first but we managed to pull out the first game. I proceeded to knock back (slowly) two more glasses of something (I don't know what it was, but it was good). My favorite tidbit from this was the phrase the woman we were playing pool with used.
When she found out that, at 25, this was my first bar and bar hopping experience, she said, "Where have you been? 25 was my prime!" I could only smile at that. She met her husband in a bar, seven years prior, and was of the opinion that bars were just as valid a place to meet future spouses as anywhere else.
I don't know if I agree with her. The bar scene is ... different. Strange. I was standing there between turns and sipping my drinks taking notes. On one hand, for the more extroverted people, the bar scene seems to be great fun.
I had running commentary going on in my head thanks to one of my characters (she's an animal at bars ... literally) and she was having a great time. Yes, it's insane, but hear me (or her) out. There was dancing, drinking, laughter, booze, and a good time to be had. What was the issue?
I was glad to have the pool table and a drink. Otherwise, I would have been aimless and lost. Once we got done playing pool with the couple we started our own game at another pool table. My buddy went off to go get some change while I was left there, by my lonesome, to sip on my mystery drink.
This is when I was relentlessly hit on for a solid five minutes by a drunk woman who was at least in her mid-30s and was tanned so unnaturally brown I thought she was a brown sugar-cinnamon pop tart. She stood there, hung all over me, and quizzed me on my pool playing skills.
There wasn't enough booze in the world, people. Not. Enough.
But it was entertaining as she kept trying to get me to talk longer than a few sentences and I kept not. After a few minutes she went back over to her table with her friends and my buddy came back. We played pool. I was initially sure he sent her over but he claimed not to and I believed him.
So, we played. He left again to go get another drink. She kept shooting me glances and, when he left, she came over, grabbed the cue ball, and dropped it into her bra. She juggled it around in there for a few seconds (the lines write themselves here. One could say she "racked" them up) before dropping it back onto the table and shooting me a look.
I only smirked and shrugged.
She sauntered back off to her table and threw up her hands in frustration at her friends, who were laughing at her (or me or us both).
We continued playing pool for another round before we left that bar.
We hit up the third bar real quick to check what was going on there. We came across a chick dressed in a skintight zebra or white tiger suit. We weren't sure which. She had a tail. Whatever the case was, we exited out of there rather quickly and hit up one more bar before the night was out.
I had a Mike's Hard Lemonade. It was quite good, and we dished on preferences as far as girls were concerned.
We hit up Taco Bell (old staple) before we ended the night and then I came home to pass out. Which I promptly did.
Overall, the experience was enjoyable but not my cup of tea.
I'm disappointed that my severe state of drunkenness didn't result in any more memorable stories. Or any more memorable actions. Part of me had hoped that with the alcohol in my system I would be able to not really care about everything else. I'm not talking about merely life concerns, but my own personal standards.
I have been called a principled person in the past. I am, and always will be, one stubborn SOB. Large amounts of booze doesn't change that. It makes me more easily entertained and willing to play along, but I didn't do anything radically different. Presented with the opportunity to do something different and radical I did virtually the same.
I measured things. I observed. I watched. I listened. I learned.
I came away from the bar hopping experience pleased at how much great material I'll be able to use for my writing in the future. It was filled with sights and sounds that I'll be able to use to write. But from a strictly personal standpoint, the experience was good for the company and good for some fun.
But it was expensive. It was a waste of time, honestly, and I would have been better off buying a bottle of wine. Which I will always be better off doing, I think.
Bottom line: I don't think I'll be bar hopping very often in the future. If at all, really. I'd like to say I had a revelation and totally bought in to "25 was my prime!" but I didn't.
I suck at bar hopping. I'm just as lame there as I am anywhere else. This isn't a statement made with a frown, but rather one made with a smirk. At least I know for sure, now. Maybe it'll be different with more people or different people or at different locations.
But I'd rather share a bottle of wine with a friend and bitch/moan/snark/ect than go bar hopping. It's not me. Sure, it gave me an excuse to get dressed up and feel like someone with a social life but ... I don't know, I'm not that person.
I discovered some new drinks. Had some interesting experiences and ended a night with Taco Bell. It was nostalgic, in a sense (especially the Taco Bell). But I suck at social and this pretty much proved it once and for all. Even with significant amounts of booze I still played to my core programming.
Which seems unchangeable or very difficult to change. Whatever the case, it's time to look into other avenues (which I'm working on, trust me. I have leads. Just need to get a few pieces in place).
Stay tuned and thanks for reading, as always.