$11 Jugs

Need I say more??
I went to an art show yesterday after work. It was a student show-and-sale where basically, all the art students trot out all the art that they've produced over the last school year and sell it off.
Some of it was really, really good.
Some of it was not.

We elected to go on the day the art show opened; the art is more plentiful and less picked over. Well, the day it opened happened to be a Thursday - a work day. I went armed with my Visa and just a few bucks, I dind't want to go overboard. I also thought ahead and grabbed a pair of jeans to wear to the show. I work in an office and on that day, I was wearing a dressier outfit than most of the other guys in our office and seeing as I was going to the show with one of those guys, it just made it a little more casual.

Well, the show was great. It was - for lack of a better word - fairly inspiring. I have some great ideas for stuff I want to throw on the walls at my new place. It also gave me an idea for a textile I'd like to create to make a hoodie out of. Neat neat neat! I love art!

It turned out to be just one guy from the office and myself that went out to the show. As we were headed back out to catch a train home, my colleague asked if I wanted to maybe grab a drink or something before we headed home. Never one to refuse booze (and also being particularly parched at that moment) I agreed. Enthusiastically.
Luckily, we were at the School of Art and Design...and we all know what that means: Campus Bar.
I can't recollect the last time I was at a student bar -- likely because of what transpired whilst I was there -- but I do remember what they are all like: Big, open space. Cheap tables and folding chairs. A stage. Students. And that smell : dirty draught lines, pencil lead and a serious need to visit the laundromat. Magical.
The special? $11 Jugs of Pilsner.

The conversation was great, the beer was good (and cheap!) and I was really, really enjoying myself. I haven't been getting out lately or really talking to anyone - mostly as I don't have that many friends - and I found myself just genuinely having a great time. So, when my accomplice asked if I'd like to order another round, I of course said yes. To the second, third and fourth jugs. (For those that don't know, a jug is about 60oz of beer).

Here the story gets a little fuzzy. I will highlight what I remember:
I needed something to eat. The beer was sitting in my stomach making me very, very inebriated.
We had to leave to get something to eat.
We walked in - trashed - to a restaurant. (I feel sorry for that waitress - it was only about 9pm)
We ordered another beer. (not my idea)
We ate something called 'tri tip' beef. (I thinkit was good, I don't remember how I was able to hold the fork and knife...)
I couldn't finish, we left and caught a train. Back to his place.
Wait, wait, wait. Before we got ON the train we ran in to two homeless guys. Ted and Gary. I know their names were Ted and Gary because Ted was, apparently, a graduate of some sort of Dale Carnegie Course. He kept saying, "I'm Ted, he's Gary you're Elsie and he's _______" over and over. We reasoned that this was because he was trying to remember our names. In hindsight, I think it may have been the schizophrenia...
We bought candy - Japanese Candy - from Gary and ate it on the train. Delicious. It was like Starburst, almost.
We got to the train station and called a cab.
I spent the night at a co-worker's house and wore one of his sweaters to work the next day.
It was a psuedo-walk-of-shame.
I was super hungover.
For the first time, at work.
It was ... bad.
If anyone noticed I was wearing his clothes, they didn't say.
They did notice I was ... a little worse for wear, let's say.

Elsie P

PS - As the day goes on, I am remembering more and more about last night...good thing or bad?