I had a great week at home at the end of October, but Charleston has been kinda drab since my return. This weekend finally brought some extra excitement as the All-American and company made the trek down from Charlotte to play.
Their visit mostly involved boozing, card games, pizza, and awesome times. I may do a more in depth recap at a later date, but I wanted the focus of this entry elsewhere.
Sometimes I get down on myself – who doesn’t, right? It always helps to have a little perspective to remind yourself that maybe your life isn’t so bad. On Friday, I got one of those moments.
The Charlotte visitors and some of the Charleston regulars were hanging at my apartment enjoying some beers, music, and card games when there was a knock on my door. Given the late hour, I assumed there would be an annoyed neighbor waiting behind my front door ready to scold us for being so loud.
I was trapped behind my “dining room” table and the wall so it was hard to to get to the door so I yelled for one of my guests to get scolded for me.
I could only pick up pieces of the conversation and I could not understand what the Hell was going on. There was a guy at the door who mentioned he lived nearby and could tell there was a party going on. No surprise here, so far it’s going the way I feared. I prepared to turn off the music and suggest we watch a movie instead of playing card games since we’re clearly being too loud.
This is when it got odd…
Turns out the guy was completely hammered and heard the obvious party noises, so he stopped by. Did he want to join the party? No, no that would make too much sense.
Apparently, this drunkard had kicked his stash of booze and was on the prowl for more. He asked if he could get a beer since he was out and “didn’t want to drive drunk to get more.” Well played, sir. You put your possible poor decision squarely in our hands. If drove drunk and killed himself, we were partly to blame b/c we didn’t offer him booze to keep him in the apartment complex.
How do you argue with that?
KT, who had answered the door, gave the guy a beer and was prepared to send him on his merry way. He decided this was a good time to request a second beer. He was denied.
So, the next morning when I had a slight hangover and scolded myself for having that last drink, I remember that my decision-making could have been a little more suspect. I could have been knocking on random peoples’ doors and guilting them into giving me their booze.
Which now that I think about it may have been fairly genius.