Getting Weird Last Friday

I hope the Workaholics guys would be proud.

You know those nights you go out and you think it’s just going to be a low key chat with a good friend over drinks? JL and I planned for one of those nights. And then shit got real.

(Let me preface this story by stating that, while for many people “shit got real” may encompass being arrested, ending up in another province/country, or ending up in an orgy, JL and I have never been THOSE kinds of girls. So for us, this night is as unplanned crazy as it usually gets when frequenting the neighbourhood pub. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Also, shout out to JL – love you, chica!).

Friends since we were 14!

This weekend marked the end of what I’ve endearingly termed “The Week from Hell” (solely because I procrastinated the shit out of everything and had to work my ass off all week trying to knock out projects that I could have been working on all term. But where’s the fun in that?). So, to celebrate, JL and I decided to have a girl’s night at our “local”– no, seriously, I went there and the waiter asked if I wanted a Guinness, because I always get served by him and always order the same thing. Which, actually, I kind of love – they know me there. They know my manly drink. Famous in a small town and all that.

Full disclaimer – which should not come as a shock to anyone that knows me remotely well – I develop crushes on any semi-attractive man that I come in contact with that does not show me the slightest bit of interest. So this one rather good-looking waiter in particular who I always get – and who does NOT indulge in any of my best attempts at flirting – was my latest challenge in trying to see how I could get into his pants engage him in conversation. The stars must have aligned for me on Friday because he finally cracked a smile. Maybe it was because my hair was curly.

Right. Back to the story. So I went to the bathroom at one point – during which I spent some time playing on my phone (you know you do it, too) – and when I left, my Future Husband (aka cute waiter) asked if the lady in the bathroom was okay.

“Uh, I guess?” (How would I know? I was sending hilarious texts to my one other friend that wasn’t at the bar all my friends). I told him to come and get me in five minutes if she wasn’t out and they were still worried (good Samaritan? I think so!).

Apparently they were still worried, because he came back and said, “I will buy you a beer -- [thought he was asking me out – he wasn’t. Why does that keep happening?] -- if you go and check on the lady in the bathroom”. Poor JL was left alone – again – while I gallantly headed to the Ladies’ room so FH would think I was super awesome and nice and cool to check out the sitch. Where I was met with a middle-aged woman lying on the floor.

Nap time.

“MA’AM! Are you okay?!” (What kind of question was that? She was lying on the fucking bathroom floor. Of course she wasn’t okay). I helped her up and guided her to the little couch (yeah, we get a couch in our bathroom– sorry guys) and had her lie down while I dramatically ran out of the bathroom and exclaimed, “Not okay, WE’RE NOT OKAY!” Simon, the other bartender, springs into action and calls this woman’s daughter while FH grabs some water – with lemon, which I’m not sure was necessary but a lovely touch – and I bring it back to the lady, who will henceforth be known as D. Turns out, she wasn’t, like, dying or anything. She was just very drunk. I kind of think she may have been on the floor taking a nap, which…can’t say has never happened to me crossed my mind. We had a wee chat while she sipped her water and I told her that this happens all the time (what? She was probably embarrassed. I had to make it seem like it was normal – also I was pretty bombed myself), at which point she told me I was beautiful (love me some beer goggles) and would I like to meet her son? Naturally, I said yes (ONLY because I was trying to keep her happy, thankyouverymuch) and I was told how much I would love him. Eventually, we had rallied enough to stagger out of the bathroom – me holding D up and trying to make it seem like we were just best friends walking out of the bathroom with our arms around each other as best friends do, obviously.

JL stared at me and D with mild confusion, horror, and hilarity as we settled back at the table. There are very, very few people with whom I could experience this situation, and I’m so glad it was my girl JL. She and I entertained D for a while until her daughter came, from whom D escaped and ran back to me and rather aggressively asked for the 100^th time if I wanted to meet her son. I told her we would meet back at the bar another night and all have drinks together. That appeased her, and she left for home – and a rough next morning, I’m sure.

Love,

M

PS – I also mistakenly drank out of D’s water glass after she left, and did not realize until JL said, “Uh, Mal, that’s D’s glass…”. Now, one would think it would be better to simply and delicately spit the water back into the glass. I am neither simple nor delicate, and I was mortified that I drank her water, so I followed my drunken instinct…and spit it out on the table (well, actually, I just sort of opened my mouth and let it pour out itself. Sexy, amiright?). Which FH saw. So…can’t go back there for a while…