Luke Grown Up

I woke up this morning wondering why I had a dream that some guy at a track meet was busting my balls really hard. Then I remembered that last night was Bust On Luke Night in Amherst.

Yesterday, I’m in my last class and I get assigned this huge ball-bust paper where we have to watch a foreign film and write about it. I’m pissed, and Lauren (my neighbor and classmate) is freaking out. Chris (Richards, my friend from Franklin and classmate) is pretty even-minded on the paper. But then again, that’s Richards. Anyway, it’s 5:30 when the class gets out, and I am to meet my friend and study for my Calculus exam that happens to be today. But I’m pissed that I have to find a movie, so I call it off. I figured I’d spend the whole night looking for something good that I hadn’t seen before.

Richards and I go get dinner at Worcester DC, and it is delicious. They have some of the best mac and cheese on this night, and I am thrilled about it. We chomp down our food while talking about chicks. I explicitly tell him that I don’t think I’m bragging about the pieces of skirt I’ve been getting, but it is a new thing to me. I’ve never been so smooth in all my days. Richards eats his cabbage soup, and we leave.

He drives me home to my place. Though I can walk, as it is not far away, it is very cold, and I opt for a ride. I come inside and search for a movie for a couple minutes, then say, “Fuck it.” John calls me up to go to the Moan And Dove. I tell him to come get me right now.

The Moan And Dove is the absolute best bar to which I’ve ever been. I have been there on multiple occasions, and it never ceases to amaze me. The atmosphere is dark and cozy, and the selection of beers is absolutely ludicrous. John always sticks with the classic Dogfish Head IPA, but I’m more adventurous and try something new in each glass. I start out with a Stone Smoked Porter, which is pretty on par with my style. I’m a big fan of the darker beers because they have a lot of character and a lot of layers of flavor. Plus, as is the custom with most beers, they get you drunk. John and I have minimal conversation, as he is staring at this girl at the bar (one of the bartenders on a night off) trying to grow the balls to say something to her, while I’m staring at the seven dumpy chicks sitting behind John. I am trying to figure them out for awhile, since two of them appear to be dating, and another has bruises all over her fingers. I rattle off to John my pros and cons of each, and after awhile one of them gets up. I see she’s wearing a hoodie that says “Mt. Holyoke Rugby” on the back. I say, “Ohhh,” and I tell John how the puzzle had just come together. At some point John tells me his roommate Brian is coming out to drink some beers with us.

I get an EKU 28 next, which is a 12-ouncer, but it packs a punch with 11% alcohol. Beautiful amber color, but too sweet for my taste. John gets a beer with a great head on it. I think another IPA.

Now the night gets interesting.

Brian calls up John and tells him he’s on his way. I’m throwing he EKU back pretty fast because I don’t like the way it tastes. I try taking little sips at a point, and though it’s successful in making it taste better, I realize that I’m just going to have to drink it longer, so I slam it back again. I follow it up with a Anchor Liberty, and John gets a Guinness. My beer tastes like heaven compared to the grossness I had just finished. I sort of get on John’s case about ordering a Guinness, but not really - I want to know of all the beers in the place, he got a pretty common one, and he tells me, “Sometimes, ya feel like a Guinness.” Couldn’t argue with that. Brian shows up and gets a beer. The three of us talk politics and John gets pretty quiet after a few minutes.

All of a sudden I get a phone call. It’s Ron Dog (my brother, Pete). Perplexed, I go outside to talk to him. He tells me about a website he is at and we talk about it briefly, and then I tell him to go to dynamoaf. He goes and reads a funny thing I had written and laughs. I laugh too. I laugh a lot.

We finish our beers and John asks me if I want another, because he’s going up to get one. I tell him to get me a pilsner (I forget who makes it), and he brings it back.

After we drink our fourth beers, I am not really that drunk, but feeling good. John wants me to go buy 3 shots of Jack with my own money. Thinking quickly, I walk up to the bartender and ask for 3 shots of Jack for John’s tab. The bartender refuses to give me 3, he’ll only give me 2. Perplexed as all hell, I say, “Wha?” He gives me some speech about not wanting to drive us over the edge, and since one of us is driving, he wants us to be safe. I pull out a few excuses, including telling him John is an alcoholic so he’s just getting started. I even asked for 3 shot of something else, clearly not getting the idea. Nothing. He breaks my stones and shuts it down. The worst part is yet to come: when I have to go back to the table and tell them that I can’t get the shots.

The worst part comes. The two of them stare at me and say, “Wha?” I explain it the best I can, and John breaks my stones. Then he goes to pay the tab. The bartender explains it to John. We leave, Brian in his car and John and I in his. John tells him he has to drop me off, so he’ll see him in a little bit back at the house.

We’re driving through the center of Amherst when I get an idea to go to a bar, either Delano’s or McMurphy’s, whichever is more crowded. We’re driving by, and McMurphy’s looks like it has a good amount of people in it, whereas next door Delano’s was all but deserted. I bring my idea up to John half-joking, and he says. “Y’wanna go?” I think for a second, and I say, “Let’s do it.” We park by Cousin’s Market and walk fairly drunkenly back up toward the bars. We laugh about how Brian is going to be expecting John but he won’t show up, and about how John doesn’t really call Brian unless it’s to pick his drunk ass up. John shoves me into some mulch as a cop is sitting in his car watching us from across the street. We walk by Delano’s and shut it down immediately. We enter McMurphy’s and some smokin’ Bacardi representative tells me to get a Bacardi drink.

John and I sit at the bar next to these four girls. There is an old old man sitting to my right, sipping a Bud Light from a cup, the bottle next to it. John orders us each a shot of Jack and a beer. We toast to feelin’ good all the time. I take a swig of Budweiser. God must have felt like breaking my stones, because I immediately knock the bottle over when I reach for it to take another sip. I pick it up quickly, and I feel like an asshole. I apologize to the bartender as she cleans it up. I effectively ruin my chances with all of those girls. John says I knocked it over so deliberately that he thought I meant to do it. Yeah, I wish. The old old man sitting to my right hates me. He vanishes soon after the incident.

More people start showing up, and John orders another round. I apologize again to the bartender because I think she’s cute, and John thinks she’s right up my alley. At some point we head to the lower part of the bar. I snag a spot at the bar and I’m hanging out, drinking my beer. I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I am surprised but happy to see my manager from work. She is surprised to see me as well, and questions if I’m 21. We have a conversation, but since it is very loud in there (these two assholes are playing guitar (Guitar Dudes on Wednesday nights)), it’s essentially a screaming match, where one of us will say something, the other will yell, “WHAT?!” the other will repeat it, the other will again yell “WHAT?!” and the cycle is repeated. For each sentence. She introduces me to her friends, one of whom isn’t drinking. Her friend and I talk briefly.

Then something happens, and I’m not sure how. I’m talking to another one of her friends, either from Weymouth or Wayland or something like that, and she starts busting my chops HARD CORE. I don’t even know about what! She makes fun of my hometown, and just keeps fucking talking about how this sucks and that sucks, and I’m completely speechless. I take it good-naturedly because that’s how I am, but then she disappears and it hits me that she was a complete piece of shit to me. I’m trying to find out where the fuck she is so I can yell at her. I ask my manager where she is, but there is no success, and I don’t think she knows who I’m talking about.

I find John, who tells me he’s calling Brian to pick us up and drive us home. We both laugh like a bastard. I try futilely to explain to him what happened with that girl. We try tracking her down, but no dice.

Brian comes and gets us, and I somehow get back in my apartment. I eat some pieces of steak, brush my teeth, throw on Nick at Nite on a timer (I lost my remote weeks ago), and crawl into bed. I get up to turn off the TV after a few minutes because it’s pissing me off.

Apparently I was pretty pissed when I came back last night. According to Alex, I was still yelling about that girl. I still want to berate her, and if I ever see her again, I’m going to give her a BIG piece of my mind.

Trackback URI | Comments RSS