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I Got Drunk On A Monday And I’ve Never Felt So Alive

I Got Drunk On A Monday And I’ve Never Felt So Alive

It was like I was back in college. The other night, I got to live like it was my victory lap year and completely abuse my body on a random weeknight.

It was 7:30 and I was off work, walking around my favorite park tracking down Pokemon because I am working out of state for a few months and have no friends here. Mid throw, I get a call from one of the inspectors on the job I am assigned to. We are both working nights this week due to 24-hour operations for this part of the project. Me being the low man on the totem pole, I got stuck with the graveyard shift starting Tuesday. So I get a call from “Gary” let’s call him. All I want to do at this point in the evening is get my steps in, grab a bite to eat, and return to my room for the night for a solid JOPO session. But somehow, this mid 30s Hispanic man was ready to give it hell for the night and I had no choice but to step up my game. I go from walking around with my dick in my hand to hopping on the light rail to Hoboken, NJ within an hour.

Bear in mind this is a Monday night, so there wasn’t much going on. The first bar we go to had potential. It had plenty of seating, was clean, and had plenty of TVs but there just weren’t enough warm bodies. We decide to pick up the heat with a couple of domestics and two shots of Fireball. I quickly come to the realization that I’ve just sucked down twice as much alcohol as I normally do on a weekday. As I watch Kerry Walsh Jennings continuously stuff Team China at the net from my bar stool, I get a nice buzz going. Although I was content with the situation, my counterpart was ready to find a livelier joint. So we cash out and head down the road to a joint that just so happens to be doing karaoke.

I’m not one to frequently indulge in karaoke but a couple more beverages and the night was quickly spiraling out of control. An Alan Jackson wannabe had a monopoly over the karaoke machine but I managed to sneak the one and only song I feel confident in singing into the queue and the next thing I know I’m belting out “Friends In Low Places” as Gary tries to swing dance with an amazon of a woman who was head and shoulders above him. Let me tell you, there is nothing funny about a short man trying to lead a taller woman across the dance floor. Every attempt at a twirl required a foot stool that was obviously not available at the time in order to execute properly, so the whole scene was just pathetic. In an effort to save what little pride Gary had I sent a #replychug snap and suggested we move on.

The next bar was chalk full of completely unnecessary aggression. I’m talking kamikazes, tequila, and other shots of the zero-to-one-hundred nature. We made friends with this couple at the end of the bar and ended up trading drinks till closing time, including Gary’s first ever (and second) blowjob shot. It is always weird seeing someone above you past the level of acceptable intoxication. But seeing them suck down back to back blowjob shots is something special. Forced to close out after cleaning off his face, I thought the night was coming to a close for myself and Gary. But fate would have it that my friend had a knack for talking to people just past half his age and all of a sudden we are splitting a cab to NYC with some college students.

Sadly, the night kind of got away from me at that point because I only remember shooting the shit with someone who claimed to play soccer for DC United and his piece of arm candy while my middle-aged friend racked up a 400-dollar tab in a futile effort to land a green card marriage with a Brazilian girl. The next thing I remember is waking up in an IHOP to a plate full of eggs and a scorching cup of mediocre coffee. No idea how I managed to make it through an all-nighter binge but at that moment, as I stared down my cup of coffee, I knew I was alive.

Most of the following day was spent sleeping off my bad decisions from the previous night before dragging my ass to easily one of the worst shifts of my entire life. It was nice painting the town red on a weeknight like I did so often back in college. Caution was thrown to the wind knowing most of the next day was available to recover from that final shot at last call. Unfortunately, we don’t get opportunities like that very often once that tassel is flipped. I’m glad I took advantage but I would be lying to you if I told you I was ready to go do it again. It’s Wednesday night and I’m still recovering.

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Cush

Mainer born and raised. Boston sports. Miller Lites. Throwing Putters. Engineering is my trade, annoying my wife is my profession. .

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