The night started innocently enough, a friend, let's call him Nate, flew in from Chicago and like any good friends would do, you take the guy out and have a few dozen drinks. We went to an all you can eat and drink shabu shabu out near Japan town and spend 2 hours reenacting Roman eating habits excluding the use of the vomitorium. After that we head downtown in cabs, but there is massive miscommunication and missed texts and a few people are lost in the melee. As we're standing in line for Bubble Lounge, Bobby tries to hop the barrier into the smoking section and immediately gets pulled aside by a large bouncer and told to leave. It was looking like it was going to be that type of night.
Bubble Lounge sucks as usual and I somehow lose everyone, I walk around a few times trying to look for a familiar face and when I don't, I get the hell out. I call Nate and find out he and Bobby are at a Mexican bar down the block hitting on a group of girls having a bachelorette party. I get in and make a beeline, the girls are from Redding, they are not very pretty. I know how I can fix this problem. I get a round of Redbull Vodkas. Nate is having what seems like an extremely intimate conversation with a early 30's blonde and besides that there's nothing much else going on, even though the girls from Redding are practically begging for attention.
Being a horrible wingman, I tell Nate and Bobby that we should head out even though it's an hour til closing time. We grab a cab and head back to the Marina where we're crashing at a buddy's apartment. This is where things get a little hazy. For some reason the cab driver pulls the cab over halfway into our ride and tells us to get the hell out. We must have been spewing some hateful shit. The next thing I know, Bobby yells run and I pump my legs until I'm out of breath. And hopefully out of view from the cab we just ditched. As we traverse our way back, Nate turns to me and asks "What does it feel like to kick in a side view mirror?" I shrug and tell him he should just find out.
We somehow finally make it back to the apartment not without first getting into two or three verbal altercations, but we get by okay because for the most part, kids in the Marina are pussies. There's nothing in the fridge besides water so that's when we decide to get some gatorade at Walgreens. We walk out the door of the apartment and immediately get pulled over. And that's how it happened.
I turn to Bobby, "Where's Nate?" He shakes his head and says "I dunno." The cab driver who told us to get the hell out of his car is talking to the cops. We had set off a few car alarms making our way back to the apartment. There were probably 20 witnesses of our obscene tirade parade through Chestnut Street. The odds are pretty stacked against us. I prepare to spend the night in the drunk tank, but I suppose that we pretty much deserved it. When in doubt, just keep your mouth shut.
Nate comes from around the corner, cuffed, and escorted by two police officers. We still haven't gotten our I.D.s back and I am pretty parched. I hope they have Gatorade in jail. By some stroke of luck, a cop hands us back our I.D.s and tells us to get the hell out of there. "What about our friend?", "You would shut up if you know what is good for you" was the reply. Bobby goes to Walgreens anyways and gets us some drinks. We head back to the apartment and wonder what time we should pick Nate up from jail, the door bell rings. It's Nate. "What the fuck happened?"
"I dunno."
"Did you get put in the back of the squardron?"
"Yeah, but they just let me go."
"You lucky son of a bitch."
And it was just that type of night. And in all honesty, it was kind of a good one.
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