Luke Grown Up

John and I had planned to go to Boston for St. Patrick’s Day about a week ago. After the party at McMurphy’s last weekend, he disappeared for awhile. Literally, for about 5 days. I got a call on Wednesday from John, asking about this weekend. I told him I still wanted to go, so we agreed to communicate more on Friday or so.

Well, Friday came and went. I drank a bottle of wine and left him threatening voicemails, none of which were answered.

Saturday morning, my friend Ross, the guy we were going to stay with, gives me a call, and I tell him that I can’t get in touch with John. He tries too, but to no avail. I tell him I still want to come in, but without John, it’s a no-go. We figure nothing’s going to happen.

At approximately 1:00 PM I get an IM from John. He previously misunderstood the situation – he thought that Ross wasn’t going to be in Boston, and that it would be pointless to go if that were the case. I tell him that Ross was on his way to Boston from Franklin, and that he would be there when we got there. John agrees to drive out to Amherst to get me, and from there we will take the Pike into Boston. I call Ross and inform him of the plan. I hop in the shower and get dressed. I pack clothes for the next day and hang out for awhile. Then I get together a hodge-podge of beers for us to drink on the ride there (3 Guinness, 2 StrawBlonds, 1 Sierra Nevada, and a can of Busch Light).

When John finally arrives, I am waiting outside. I hop in the car and we’re on our way. We listen to HIM and Ween. When we hit the Pike we crack a pair of Guinness. So far, so good. About halfway there and John needs to stop for gas. We pull into the gas station/rest area. I feel like I’m fading (I went to bed around 12:30 the night before and awoke at 5:45 for no reason, unable to sleep – a common occurrence as of late), so I go inside the building and get in line at Lavazza for a cup of some of the worst coffee in existence. Lavazza has the market cornered, because their coffee is shit, but drivers have no choice – it’s either that or fall asleep at the wheel. I guess with the proliferation of Green Mountain Coffee at McDonald’s, also at the same rest stop, we now have a choice. Regardless, I go to the counter and I wait. There are four people behind the counter and I am the only person in line. Two of the workers (girls) are talking to each other on the right. One is showing the other some stupid fucking beads she has around her neck. The other two (man and woman) are chatting it up on the left. I’m not sure if they work there or at the adjoined pastry counter. None of them even look at me, much less make eye contact or ask me what I want. At this point I realize that I don’t really want coffee badly enough to wait for someone to notice me. Rather than going up and saying something to get their attention, I say fairly loudly, “Fuck it.” I turn around and walk out. John gives me a weird look when I tell him what I did. We are gassed up, so we hit the highway once again.

Once we arrive in Boston, we drive to Ross’ place and drop off our stuff. By now it is about 6:00. Ross and I shotgun a beer, and we settle in with John to drink a few more. Ross isn’t 21, but has a fake ID that we’re pretty sure will work, so we plan our night around that. I am really fuckin’ hungry, so I advocate getting pizza. They are all about going to TGI Friday’s, but I try to explain to them that it’s just a more expensive Applebees ripoff. They get pissed at me and concede to my urgings for pizza. We go to Il Mondo for some slices. While I eat my two slices, Ross and John run to 7-11. They return and Ross gets a slice of barbecued chicken. I get another slice of cheese. I still need an energy drink.

After the pizza, we go to this bar down the street from Ross’ place called The Squealing Pig. Ross gets in without a problem. I need to piss, so I tell one of them to order me a Red Bull and vodka. After my session with Mr. Urinal, I get out and find that they don’t have Red Bull. A little annoyed, I get a Guinness instead. We find a table sans chairs by the ATM and hang out. We toast to feeling good all the time. Following that round, I go to the bar and ask for 3 shots of Jack and 3 Buds. The bartender comes over with 3 Bud Lights. I ask if they are out of Budweiser, he says they don’t serve it. I have a typical “Luke ‘Wha?’” moment, and I get John’s help bringing the drinks back to the table. I’m still feeling the imminent crash. We take the shots and mine sits a little funny. I drink my beer and ignore it. The three of us finish up and leave.

At this point, Ross urges us to go to a party at his friend’s place. We figure that we need beer. We go to a liquor store and buy a sixer of Newcastle and a 12 of Bud Light. I pick those up as well as a Red Bull (finally). The box that the Buds come in is missing a side. Not important, but a little unsettling. We go back to Ross’ apartment to get backpacks to put the beer in. While there, I let loose a golden shower and drink my Red Bull. Once we get everything situated, we head out to Ross’ friend’s.

We arrive and are greeted at the door by a young man in a green corduroy jacket. The party seems to be dying. John, Ross, Green Jacket, and I play a few games of quarters. It is a fairly even game. Then the four of us go upstairs and gaze at Green Jacket’s bar that he built. Around us, the stragglers are getting it on, and those who aren’t getting it on are in relationships. Seems to be a bust. I go downstairs and catch a bunch of dudes busting each other’s balls. I laugh. John and Ross come down, and Ross and I go outside to smoke a Black And Mild. While outside, we tell everyone to have a Happy St. Patrick’s day, and I decide that I’m going to speak with a Boston accent for the rest of the night. John joins us, and we depart to go to another bar called Flann’s.

On the way there, we pass a pizza place. Ross and I want pizza. We ditch John, who makes his way to Flann’s. Ross and I go inside. I get a slice and Ross gets two. These two girls sit down next to us. I tell Ross to talk to them, and he makes small talk for a moment, but then they ignore him. After my slice, and after Ross’ two, he gets up and gets us both another slice – this time, it is Sicilian pizza (thick and square). Though I didn’t really want it, I ate it anyway. By now I am feeling a lot better than I was earlier. Some girl next to us is claiming that she is a virgin, even though in the sentence before she said she had sex with several men. Ross and I exchange a laugh with one of the dudes sitting with her. We get ready to leave, but Ross physically bars me from leaving until I talk to the two girls that he chatted up earlier. I come up with a great comment. I walk over to one of them, smack her pretty hard in the arm, and say, “I don’t mean to sound like a creep or anything, but I really like your highlights.” Obviously, pretty creep sentence. I turn on my heel and we leave, laughing all the way.

We head over to Flann’s, but there is a line to get in. Ross and I get in line. I call John and inform him of the situation. Also, by this time, I have dropped the Boston accent after realizing how fucking stupid of an idea it was. As we get to the front of the line, John comes out to smoke a cigarette. He goes back in right before we get in.

For some reason I always have trouble at bars. Something happens that always makes me have a “Wha?” moment. Earlier in the evening I had one at the Squealing Pig. Weeks ago I had one at Delano’s when they said they were out of gas, and another one when the barkeep at Moan And Dove wouldn’t give me three shots. For some reason this shit only happens to me. Anyway, the “Wha?” moment at Flann’s happens when I first hit the bar. Having no cash, I want to start a tab. I ask what the minimum is on tabs, and the bartender says they’re not taking tabs that night. “Wha?” I walk back to Ross and tell him, and he gives me cash. I buy us a pair of Guinness (for ten fuckin’ bucks) and we go meet John in the back. We get there and he’s chatting up these two pieces of skirt. One of them asks me for the beads I am wearing (I don’t remember exactly where they are from). I don’t read her whatsoever and tell her I’ll give them to her if she shows me her tits. She totally isn’t the type. She doesn’t say much more to me and basically runs away. John is hitting on this girl with a green plastic pipe. He’s really into her, and he puts his arm around her. I watch Ross play Pac-Man – he’s fucking terrible at it. John goes outside to smoke a cigarette, Ross joins him to get some air, and I sit down and feel alone. I am talking to this girl, but one silence is too long, and she runs “to be with her friend”. I am moody at this point. I walk to the front and peer out the window to try and find John and Ross. I see them and make faces at them. They come inside rather quickly. John gives me a look. We head back to the rear of the bar. I’m the last one of the three of us in a line back there. On the way back, as I’m walking by some asshole, he purposely splashes beer on me. I whip around and say, “What the fuck man?” At this point I know he did it on purpose because he doesn’t look at me but tries to shake my hand. I shove him away violently and tell him to fuck off. I don’t want to get in a fight, but I’m on the verge of allowing it. I turn back around and meet back up with my friends. While in the back, we witness some young dude stumble into the back on his way to the bathroom and fall head first into the wall.. Since he is far from the wall, his body is nearly parallel to the ground when he strikes it. I laugh. We stick around a little longer, then decide to leave.

We go back to the apartment and drop off our stuff. We may or may not have another beer – it is hazy. We decide to go to the South Street Diner. I am still annoyed.

We leave the building and I catch a cab. We’re on our way and out of nowhere, the cabbie takes out his phone and rudely starts calling someone. This annoys me more than anything – if I’m in your cab, don’t fucking put my life in jeopardy by talking on the phone. So he’s speaking in some other language, and I start laughing. The language sounds ridiculous. He makes a noise: “Eeeeeee” in a high-pitched voice. I duck my head and futilely stifle my laughter.

We arrive at the Diner and we have to wait for a few minutes for something to open up. I flirt with a couple fatties to get a cigarette since John only has two left and I don’t want to steal them from him. Finally, it’s our time. We sit at the bar and order our food (I order a reuben). Ross and John are infatuated with our waitress – I don’t see what the big deal is. John puts money in the jukebox, but it doesn’t register. I inform the waitress, and she gives us a dollar. John asks her what she wants to hear, and she requests some Johnny Cash. John plays Ring of Fire and some other song, and she is into it. Ross and John get boners. Our food arrives and we eat it. My reuben is pretty good. After we’re done, I pay the bill. Ross gets the rest of his sandwich wrapped, and we leave in search of a cab.

Well, the next hour is us searching for a cab. We walk to the nearest bank so John can get cab fare. From there, we keep walking so that we may be able to hail one. No such luck. The night is cold, and I just want to get inside somewhere to warm up. Ross is getting exceptionally pissed, and I am finding the whole situation incredibly funny. We make it all the way down to the theater district, and still, nothing. We are on both sides of the street, crisscrossing it to find a cab going in either direction – anything so we can get home. Ross is about to snap. He is leading the pack, and I am about 15 feet behind him, with John bringing up the rear somewhere far away. A drunk couple walks by us, the girl stumbling. Ross yells in her face to walk straight. Finally, at some weird crossroads that I don’t recognize, we get a cab. The driver is Haitian, and he’s a fucking riot. He keeps talking about weed and banging girls. He is literally out of his mind. He runs several red lights and swerves around traffic.

On Huntington Ave, right before the turn onto Ross’ street, some girls pull up next to us. They ask the driver through an open window how to get to I-93. He gives bad directions, and we somehow get in front of them at a red light. Out of nowhere he gets out of the cab and closes his door. He goes back to talk to the girls, and we’re in stitches. Ross gets out too as the light turns green. We are sitting in the middle of the road, blocking a lot of traffic. Ross left to get someone’s number. He comes back without his food. John and I are heated. He gives us a number sans area code, and I proceed to call voicemail boxes to find out which number is correct. It is now 3 AM. I finally decide on the 508 area code because it was the only number where I got a name (Stacy), so I call her up. I ask her if she was just in a car behind a taxi, and she says no. I do a poor job explaining the situation, and I hang up.

We get back to Ross’ place, and John is antagonizing Ross. He keeps saying, “Ross…I’m serious.” Ross is getting angry. After a short pause, John calls Ross’ name. Ross answers, and John pulls the line out again. John and I are having a great laugh. I do the same thing, and Ross is pissed. We go to bed.

I wake up around 9, unable to sleep. I am officially up for the day. We go to Dunkin’ Donuts to get some food. I get a juice because I’m not hungry. We see a fatty passed out in a convenience store window. I am fairly disgusted.

When we get back to the apartment, I shower. I receive a call at 11 from a number I don’t recognize (I just looked it up now as I’m writing this, and it was someone from my hometown – very odd). I answer the phone, and it’s a girl (Stacy) asking me if I called her at 3 AM the night before. I laugh and say yes. She seems frightened and asks why I called. I start to explain, and at this point John and Ross figure out what’s going on and start laughing at me. She doesn’t understand how I knew her name. I explain the voicemail thing to her, but she doesn’t get it. I apologize and hang up.

John and I leave shortly after. We have a pseudo-philosophical discussion about dudes and babes. My mom calls me as we are traveling off the Pike. She asks me if I’m coming home at all during my break, and as I’ve stated plenty of other times last week, I tell her I’m not. She asks what John’s doing, and I tell her he’s going back and forth. Later on in the conversation:

Mom: So I mean, if John’s going back and forth, you could hitch a ride home with him if you want.

Luke (bluntly/loudly): …I’M NOT COMING HOME.

The she starts going on about some memory game show. I have no idea what she’s talking about. I lose signal, so the conversation ends. John calls me a dick and gets a good laugh when I explain to him what she was saying to me.

After this, shit’s boring. Nonetheless, good times had by all.

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