Monday, November 24, 2008

Winning at Ship Captain Crew and Losing at Beat the Hangover

Greetings, all. I decided this weekend, after a peaceful and easy Friday, to venture south of I-80 and Kick it Old School with my Peotone friends. Big mistake. Big, big mistake.

Is it that I didn't have fun? Is that the problem? Um. Resounding no to that. Is the problem that I had perhaps too much fun? Yes. That is the problem.

Slippy and I started it off at the BA (that's the bowling alley) where there was apparently a lesbian convention, karaoke and underage sting operations occurring. We feasted our eyes for a while and eavesdropped as a brash and bold lady attempted to turn the cute (but far to metro--when a man's eyebrows resemble diacritical marks, I file him under "Would Be Cute If He Weren't A Girl") bartender into a gigolo. I feel bad for the guy. He was thisclose to serving a fourteen year-old a Jack and Coke in front of his boss, and almost got shit-canned. Then he had to contend with this awful woman offering to buy him as a plaything for her entourage of bar-flies. That would rattle my cage, also. But the place was a molten mess, and we had to escape before I got a chance to sing my karaoke standard, La Bamba, which is a shame, because it's quite the crowd pleaser.

So, we strolled across the very quiet Second Street to Throwbacks. I was so disappointed to see that the only "throwback" jerseys found in the bar were from Peotone High School. I might take up a collection to actually grace them with a real, live jersey worthy of the name. Unless of course the name "throwbacks" refers to all of the Peotone has-beens that populated the joint. Like me and my friends!

Finally, a little peace and quiet where we weren't jammed into the bar, waiting for a customer to accidentally dribble beer on our heads. The BA was blowing up, and Throwbacks offered a quieter place to talk and get our drink on.

I believe part of the reason I am still hung over was that I indulged in my craving for draft beer. For some reason, sometimes I really just want to drink Lite draft, and that was one of those nights. Soon we were joined by fellow SWC alum, Ratherto, our old school friend Tiny Dancer and Slippy's friend Roy. While drinking and talking is all good and well, drinking and playing dice games is infinitely more entertaining. (I almost said "funner." Is funner a word? Further proof of the Great Brain Cell Massacre of 11.22.08) That, and harassing Officer St--. Damn. While his name almost sounds like an alias anyway, I guess I will grace him with a code name for privacy purposes. Anyway, harassing Officer Snowball is perhaps the finest entertainment the Second Street drinking establishments have to offer. I never, ever, ever let it slide that one winter day almost 20 years hence, Fucking Dan Snowball drilled me right in the chops with a ball of fucking ice. Fuck that dude. He needs reminding every time I roll into town.

So, after busting Snowball's chops, it was time to play some Ship Captain Crew. I only know how to play two drinking games, and let me tell you, when it's time to play SCC or Asshole, I will dominate. The dice rolled, the beer flowed and things got pretty intense. Soon it was time to retire to Casa de la Slippy de los Fuegos (my Spanish is rusty. Does that mean Slippy's House of Fire?) for a fine vintage port, philosophical discussions and a screening of classic Italian films.

But I fell asleep and woke up with a draft beer hangover, so I didn't get to discuss the Hegelian notion of Aufhebung or Felini's masterpiece, La Dolce Vita.

Shame. I'm usually so witty and deep when it comes to such cultural subjects. But it never fails. When I cross that magical boundary line and enter Peotone, where I spent my formative years, I regress. I become sixteen again. I get the urge to road-load. It's just good fun.

Anyway, I won a bunch of dollars, which I spent on booze, and lost a whole entire Sunday to curing my draft beer hangover. Oh well. It was nothing compared to the sangria migraine I had the week before. Peace out, readers. I'm sure I'll have some Black Wednesday shenanigans to report on Turkey Day!

4 comments:

theeriver said...

The old Peotone BA, I haven't been there in years. When I use to hang out in Peotone I loved the down home feeling that was around there, but that was YEARS ago.

The secret to avoiding hangovers, drink water or gatorade, as much as you can before going to bed.

Take it from a professional.

Nora said...

Yeah, sure. So when I pass out, I can wet the bed. Great advice!

theeriver said...

Well you can do it when you wake up too.

See sometimes though in the summer I would drink so much, and it was so hot I would get the worst leg cramps ever. One morning I literally crawled to my buddies sink, and slurped down my fill of water like some sort of crack addict.

Ahh good times!

My other piece of advice....
Sleep in someone elses bed.

Jude said...

You know the strange things that happen when you go south of Manhattan-Monee Rd!!!! Slippy and Rathero must feel it going north sometimes....it's not a bad thing per-se.....just a Twi-Light Zone kind of brain activity..is I is,or is I ain't where I'm supposed to be???..all goes back to those formative years....Like should I go back to....never mind!