When I was a young chap (a couple of centuries ago) I would go clubbing / cruising every weekend with my two friends. There`s Pat, the small, tough as nails, silent rebel, and also Chris, the loud mouth, accident prone type. Last but not least, I`m Tom, the one in the middle.
My friend Bob and I often hang out at `Pub Le Faubourg`. We go at `Le Faubourg` `cause there`s no cover charge and the beer`s dirt cheap. It`s located downtown. You will see different folks there: punks, squeegees, prostitutes, bums, vagrants alcoholics like us and folks too weird to even try to describe. The other night we were sharing a beer pitcher as usual. We where talking about intellectual stuff like wrestling, hockey, blues music and women. We`re both bachelors and we were saying that in this modern day and age of global communications it`s still difficult to meet decent folks. To meet sleazy and easy is pretty easy. But to meet honesty, decency and quality, really ? Near impossibility baby. It doesn`t help to hang out at dives either. Hey, the beer`s cheap here you can`t have everything you know.
We kept on talking while enjoying our cold beer. Usually I`m the one which gets loaded first because I have a tendency to drink too fast (amongst other things). Bob`s a straight forward kind of guy. He drinks slowly and it takes him a thousand years before he gets there, I mean DOH, drunk. It was different tonight. I was the one relaxing and taking it easy. He was chugging it down fast. Soon I saw Bob in a drunken stupor. God! What a change! I remember him mentioning the cute blond girl at the bar, when suddenly he, BLARGHHHH! He puked all over our table and some bits hit the floor.
I don`t know what he had for supper, that stuff was fucking chunky. Man this was really gross!!! Bob slowly started to throw the puke on the floor with his hands. I`m sorry man he said. The place was full packed and people where staring at us. I told him: ' leave that shit alone, clean yourself up and let`s get da fuck outa here`.
Bob told me to wait for him outside. I didn`t bother arguing with him. On my way out I didn`t mention the vomit to the waiter. I was too ashamed for both of us. I waited outside for what seemed like hours. Finally Bob got out. He failed to tell the waiter about the puke on our table.
Tom 'I`m so ashamed about what I just did.` `I know how you feel bro`.
Needless to say we never went to that place again. Every time I think about this tale I`m always laughing. Imagine the face of the waiter when he discovered Bob`s mess (now that`s marking your territory indeed).
Well I will admit that it is always interesting to hear about such tales of drunkeness, especially coming from someone who can actually remember such! Take it from an ex-bar hoppin' night club trippin' ex-poky-toxicologist (they used to call me a drunken walking pharmacy!)when I say this: at the very least you remember enough moments to write about them in such a fashion! Keep them up dear Frank; it's quite momentous in its timelessness!
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