This post will be appearing in the Dude Write 7 lineup, you need to click over and read a whole slew of great posts, but then vote for me, thanks!
I was reading a pretty random post over at According to Jewels (whom you should read and follow) and she mentioned the horrible, terrible, Swedish “band” Ace of Bass. Normally this probably wouldn’t cause anyone undue harm, but for me the situation is different. Dramatically (as in high school-ish, pathetic drama) awkwardly, scathingly, different. I saw the sign and it basically closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and I puked out everything in my gut.
Classic scene: the guys are on the prowl, out for a night on the town, gettin’ wasted and pickin’ up wasted chicks. We looked hot, we were so cool, and chicks dug us. Or so we thought, naturally, we were in our early twenties and hell bent on wrecking the place. I was on vacation down in Galveston, Texas, visiting one of my best friends of all time, and I’ll call him G-Money or G$ for short. G$ was cut down in his prime and is no longer with us, but his memory lives on, and they were pretty much all incredible. This particular night was no exception. Except for the Ace of Bass song playing in the background.
This is not actually where we were, by the way, this is just a picture meant to attempt to convey how freaking cool we were and the amount of fun we were having. Which was A FREAKING LOT. Because, as I mentioned, we were tearing shit up that night, for sure. So, we’re rockin’ it out, dancing with all the hot chicks in the place, making the other guy feel inferior, and somehow, UNIMAGINABLY, my buddy G$ decided it was time for The Night of Doing ALL The Shots.
At first, this wasn’t such a horrible idea. We had met some friends of G$’s at the club, were partyin’ with them, meeting their friends, and finding ourselves surrounded by gorgeous ladies, partyin’ dudes, and basically being the hit of the whoel freaking place. They loved us. We got quite a few of the ladies involved in doing ALL The Shots with us, but unfortunately (this was *awesome* at the time, but I know better now so…) this led to us being plied with more and more shots from everyone around us. If it was liquor and came in a bottle, I probably drank some of it that night.
Let me take a brief moment to back up and set the scene even further: I was down in Galveston visiting my friend for New Years. I’d been there a few days already and we’d not been kickin’ it much because G$ had been working. The next day (after this club flashback) was New Year’s Eve and G$ didn’t have to work, so even though we had big plans for NYE we were out knockin’ shit over for really the first time since I’d arrived in Galveston.
Back to the club. We drank, and danced, and drank, and dirty danced, and drank, and sucked booze out of women’s navels, and on and on and on, forever. At least it WOULD’VE been forever, and fabulous, and incredible, and some rich older guy probably would’ve yelled, “We’re all getting laid!” a la Rodney Dangerfield in Caddyshack. Instead, alas, the last thing I remember was that god-awful song, “I Saw the Sign,” by that god-awful band, Ace of Bass.
You see, at some point before the super-fantastic-orgy ending of the night I had pictured in my mind, I went outside to get some air, maybe grab a smoke, stumbled over to G$’s car, puked all over the curb (and probably my shoes) and, because it was unlocked, slumped into the passenger seat and promptly passed out. Done.
I don’t remember that, or going home, or being directed into my room, or falling into bed, or sleeping. I only remember waking up the next day, with alcohol poisoning so bad I should have gone to the hospital, and so sick I couldn’t even keep the delicious healing elixir that is red Gatorade down. And it was NYE. G$ was, of course, unscathed, and to his credit, only at my insistence, he went out and partied his balls off again that night to ring in the new year. I remember vaguely regaining consciousness around Midnight NYE when the fireworks were going off above the canals, but I doubt I even raised my head from the pillow before falling back into the black.
It brings to mind a classic song from the late ’80’s that basically could have been written about me that fateful night. Thank God I wasn’t driving, but yeah, I overdid it. I wish I remembered this song instead of that damn Ace of Bass crap that ruined my night! (Yes, it was the song’s fault, not the 70 gallons of moonshine and whiskey I drank.)