The 21st birthday party, an American tradition. It can either be a great way to start yourself on a path of responsible legal drinking, or a way to make yourself into a shit show....I chose the latter.
My brother had just graduated from the University of Michigan around the time I had turned 21, So the connections, and a place to stay made Ann Arbor a perfect place to spend my 21st birthday. We started off at a restaurant called Ashley's. They offer great food and a bajillion god damn beers on tap, most of which are pretty quality. My two brothers from another mother Evan, and Drew, my brother Jake, and of course my hetero life mate Gabe have all made the trip to celebrate 21 years and 9 months since my parents made, in most peoples eyes, the biggest mistake of their lives.
We have dinner, and a few beers in preparation for the night. Then head out to The Jug, a sports bar down town. This is when a fun night of casual drinking turned into an olympic sport of debauchery. Pitchers of Miller Light started arriving at the tables...the Red Wings were in the playoffs at the time...fuck you! Then came the shots. Rumple Minze, Jack Daniels, Four Horseman, Rumple Minze, a Washington Apple or some shit like that, then More whiskey, and tequila...you see where this is going. By this time a few of my brothers room mates from college have joined us.
A grown man was my first target of the evening. The patio where we were sitting at The Jug is literally damn near in the fucking road This grown ass man drives up to us on the patio on a moped.I know the ultra-liberals that reside in Ann Arbor are very eco-friendly people, but at what point do you realize you still have manhood, and pride to defend. I casually, and politely inform him that he looks a little feminine on his vehicle of choice. And when I say casually and politely what I meant to say was, I stood up from my chair pointed at him directly in the face, made eye contact with him and howled a shit eating laugh, followed by the words "CUTE MOPED DUDE, DO THEY MAKE THEM FOR MEN?". I think that is about the time that waiter cut us off, so we continued our adventure...I think.
Any other night, I could have went home, but it was my birthday! So this is where everything starts to get blurry. We arrived at some bar that had a MASSIVE dance floor. Gabe and Drew are putting drinks on some douche bags tab most of the night. These "Shark Bowls" start coming to the table. Shark bowls are bowls of legal date rape that could get Brian Peppers laid...google him if you'd like. 2 or 8 of these bad boys, and I have hit my limit. I stand gazing into the crowd of people, and remember salivating quite heavily. Anyone that talks to me I laugh assuming they are telling a joke. Then the question of the night is asked by my brothers friend.
"Sam, are you going to puke?"
"No"
"Then why are you spitting on the floor?"
If you aren't familiar with puking while you're drunk, your body starts to salivate preparing its self for the oral shit storm that is about to erupt from your stomach.
My brother starts to guide me from the bar to the bathroom. Now what kind of fucking bar puts the bathroom on the opposite side of bar on the other side of dance floor. With all the god damn geniuses floating around this city, you'd think they would have figured this shit out by now. Nope. As we are winding through the crowd spurts of puke decorate unsuspecting frat dudes button up shirts, and sorroriwhores Ugg boots, or whatever the fuck they wear. As I make it to the bathroom I let slip the dogs of war on the toilet, sink, floor, wall of that dive bars bathroom.
I put my body on auto-pilot, and let fate take over.
I wake up the next morning in my brothers friends place on the couch, all of the usual suspects are accounted for. Jake, Drew, Evan....Gabe...where the fuck is Gabe? I text..no answer. I call...no answer. Gabe got raped by a street bum, and is laying dead in an alley somewhere...I FUCKING KNEW IT! I just got my best friend killed. What will I tell his mom, how will I tell the police. Then my phone rings. Gabe is about a mile away from the apartment, severely hung over, and is hungry. He receives guidance, and is on the move. We link up later and find out what happened.
My brother was firemans carrying me down the street shouting obscenities at anyone that questions him, along with the rest of our posse.
Enter bohemian bum, stage left.
The bum asks our group where he could possibly locate some alcohol, he is given directions and is on his merry way. As the bum starts to take off, Gabe has a less than stellar idea. "I'm going with him" he says and runs off into the darkness with the bum. Gabe informs us that he tagged along with the bum until he showed him a nice place to sleep for the night, and Gabe being the gentleman he is obliges the offer and spends his night in an empty dumpster behind a restaurant.
Honestly I could think of many ways to lie to you, and tell you that we did that again the next night, or we did something awesome, or some other bullshit. But I felt the effects from that night for quite some time and didn't feel like drinking, or going out, let alone bother to even leave my bed for at least two days.
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