Saturday morning I was awoken by the sound of violent retching. As far as I knew, all four of us (TD, Baby Joey, Girlfriend, and I) were present and accounted for in the bedroom; which made me wonder if someone had broken into our suite just to hurl. And knowing my friends, it wouldn’t have surprised me in the least. It seemed only logical that one of them had conned his way into getting a room key from the front desk, let himself in, gone into the bathroom, and began to loudly erode his esophagus. When I looked over at the other bed, though, I saw only TD. Muttering “Lightweight,” I rolled over and went back to sleep.An hour or so later, after the rest of us arose, Joey explained how he had gotten sick. He and TD had been the last two travelers to arrive the night before, only reaching the hotel at about 11:30 pm. He was determined, therefore, to even the playing field and get as drunk as the rest of us. Or, in his words: “I was playing ‘catch up,’…and I caught up.” At The Light Horse, he had just begun drinking a tall Red Bull and vodka when they rang the bell for last call. Figuring we would be moving on to another venue to continue drinking, he ordered a second tall Red Bull and vodka. He nearly chugged each, trying to put them away before we left. Six hours later, his eyes opened to a spinning room.
The previous night soon got its revenge on TD, too; she made several trips to the bathroom that morning to heave. Girlfriend and I, however, were fine (she even went downstairs for the complimentary continental breakfast, bringing back some fruit and pastries for the rest of us). By noon everyone was on solid footing again, and we took the train into town to sightsee (with the notable exception of Esq and Shock, who chose to stay in bed).
When we came back to the hotel that evening, Baby Joey and I made an executive decision: we needed pregaming supplies. He was the first of the four of us to
shower up, so he collected some money and took the hotel shuttle out to a store to get beer. He returned with two 12 packs of Miller Lite, and we stocked up the mini fridge—not to mention the kitchen sink (right). He and I kicked back with beers and “Wedding Crashers” while the girls did their hair and makeup. At one point, Joey said, “God this movie is so great!” TD, who was in the bathroom with her flat iron, came rushing out. “What did you just say?? ‘It would suck to be married’?!?”If he doesn’t buy her a ring soon, that girl might crack one night and choke him in his sleep.
Chief, Kim, Esq, Shock, Finn, and Genoa came to our suite with our newly-engaged friends “Tank” and Katie (congrats to each of them), who had driven down from Pittsburgh earlier that day. After a beer we all caught the Metro into D.C., to the apartment of CJ and Rob, two of Esq’s law school buddies who by now have become members of our extended alkie family. A stop away from our destination, though, a middle-aged woman stepped onto the train; once inside she turned back towards the platform and coolly unleashed an intense tongue-lashing. In an even tone she said, “Fuckin bitch! Yeah, we’ll see. You don’t know motherfucker!” I leaned back and looked out the window to see who had earned her wrath, expecting it to be some equally-angry individual. But all I saw outside of the train was an empty platform. She was talking to herself.
She moved to a more stable location as the train left the station, but continued to berate her absent foe all the way to the next stop, emphatically slamming her hand on the train wall once or twice. After we got up and carefully filed past her to exit the train, I looked back down the platform at her. The last of us to walk by her was Joey, and something about him must’ve pushed her button. She stared directly at the back of his head, spewing more “motherfuckers” and “bitches” as he strode away. I pointed this out to Chief and said, “How great would it be if she kicked his ass right here?”At the apartment, we met up with Rob, “K.” (his girlfriend), CJ, our friends Cat and Sam, and others. Rob’s apartment is amazing—what else would you expect from a young lawyer living in D.C.?—and served as a great setting for a small pre-party. An extra large hip flask (which, like the Jim Beam inside of it, was given to Chief for his birthday) was passed around amongst the braver of us. Several of us gathered in the living room, which included a large brown couch. Unfortunately for Esq, he was wearing a large blazer of a similar color.
And doubly unfortunate for him, one of the favorite pastimes of our circle of friends is joking about each other’s weight. Chief walked over to our group and said, “Hey, [Esq] is wearing the couch!”When we all—well, all of us except for Esq—erupted into laughter, Chief looked amazed.
Chief: “Wait, you mean no one else said that yet?”
Me: “No, we saved it for the birthday boy!”
Chief: “Wow. Thanks guys!”
Girlfriend continued to mingle and blend in seamlessly (she even took a healthy swig from the flask). This was her first time meeting anyone from this family of friends, though, and the sheer number of names and faces being thrown at her gave her a little trouble.
Everyone decided to head to the bar, and at the Metro station she and I talked with Rob & K. about a recent boozing adventure of theirs.K.: “...That was the first time I met ‘Mr. Jameson,’ so I wasn’t feeling too well the next day.”
Girlfriend [whispering to me]: “Wait, which one was Jameson? Was he the guy in the pink shirt?”
Rocket Bar, a great sports bar/pool hall across the street from the Verizon Center, was chosen as the destination for the night’s main event. Things rapidly became blurry after we arrived. Drinks and shots were being passed out like bags of food from a UN truck in a war-torn country. When the bar closed we took our fun out into the streets, posing for various pictures, including several of people wearing Esq’s blazer. There’s even one of Chief and Tank wearing it together, each with an arm in a sleeve.
Everyone from our large congregation seemed to split up after that, though. At the end of the night, Girlfriend, Chief, Tank, Katie, and I ended up in the Embassy Suites’ atrium, which features a large fountain. Tank and Chief decided they should dip their heads in the fountain and then wrestle—to the delight of the night manager, who then had to walk over to three very large, drunk guys and ask us to disperse. Katie and Tank took Chief back to their hotel down the street, but not before they all got “stuck” while trying to walk through the large automatic sliding doors. When the doors didn’t open, Tank began headbutting the glass, yelling, “LET. ME. OUT!! LET. ME. OUT!!” Katie waved her hand in front of the sensor and the doors finally opened, and the three of them spilled out into the Northern Virginia night.The next day, while we ate lunch with our ladies, Tank, Chief, and I received a text message from Baby Joey that summed up the weekend:
“It was a blast boys and girls! Chief, thanks for everything…Especially for noticing that [Esq] was wearing the couch last night, lol!”
