I’m Funny If You’re Drunk

I went out the other night.  What?  You went out?  I know!  I did.  I never go out.  Maybe to a movie with my friends when the girls are at their dads, but never “out” out.  I went downtown to a club and had dinner with a bunch of people for a friend’s birthday.  I played the game “drunk or brain injury” (sadly, it was brain injury AND a little drunk).  And I didn’t have one margarita.  I was so proud of myself, but I’m not really a drinker ESPECIALLY when I’m driving.  Also, this place has such strong margaritas that they limit you to three.  And they were $6.50 a piece, but I might be stingy with my money too.  A Mike’s Lemonade on game night is one thing, but drinking at a club is apparently pretty expensive.

I was meeting someone at the light rail station because neither one of us wanted to go downtown by ourselves, and I was a little sad about our public transportation after being in New York.  Seriously, those people had it all figured out.  And that subway has been running since the early 1900’s.  Our little four-car light rail looked pretty puny in comparison.  I do know, however, how far advanced we are compared to other cities and I was thrilled not to have to deal with parking downtown.  The complicated ticket machine took my money but gave me no ticket.  Great.  I got on anyway.  I had a witness that I tried to pay, I’m sure that would have gotten me out of a fine.

On the way to the light rail station, I started thinking it was cool to go out.  Like I was a grown up.  Yes, I know I’m going to be 39.  But you probably don’t remember that I had been with the monkey since I was 19, so I never actually went out.  Saturday, I started thinking I’d like to go out more.  And then I got there. 

The free shuttle after the light rail didn’t have our stop and we weren’t sure where we were going so we asked the horse carriage guy, and walked back three blocks to our destination.  Then, I wore the wrong shoes.  I wore cute sandles with my capris because it’s May, but that doesn’t matter in Colorado.  We had to wait outside because of fire code.  They didn’t take reservations and it was crazy crowded, so we had to swarm around the table we wanted, and then move when a bigger one opened up.  Also, besides her parents, I was the oldest one there.  I’m fine with that, but I realized that my time to go out might have passed me by while I was at home married and having kids.

There was a cute guy there, very young.  He stopped at one margarita as he talked about how he was trying to get out of his DUI.  Then he asked me if I was going to go dancing afterwards, and I told him no because I had too many kids at home.  And he said, “Are you talking about your dogs?”.  No, I actually  have kids.  He said, “cool”.  He then went on to tell me that some girls consider their dogs to be their kids.  Awwww, youth.  I left the restaurant around 11 and I was exhausted.  I got home at midnight and overslept for church the next day.  I’d probably still be sleeping if I went out with them somewhere else.  Good heavens, I’m getting tired just talking about it.  Maybe my time for going out is over, but it’s still fun every now and then.

Here’s my small triumph and the reason for this blog:  I have well-documented social anxiety in that I talk about it all the time.   I normally agree to go somewhere and then spend the rest of the time figuring out how to get out of it.  I don’t like crowds, I can’t make small talk, and I’m awkward.  Just admit it, you know it too.  However, I was on fire Saturday night.  I was making small talk like nobody’s business.  I was semi-interesting, although it helped that someone asked me about my trip to New York.  The biggest thing was, I didn’t leaving thinking, WHY DID I SAY THAT?  like I normally do.  I left thinking that I had accomplished something, and I wasn’t a complete doofus. 

Now, you may think I was only interesting because everyone else was drunk, but just give me my sliver of happiness in that I came out feeling like I might not dread all social situations like I have before.  I can’t wait to use my new small talk skills at my friend Anna’s bridal shower.  I hope everyone’s drunk.

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2 Comments

  1. Greg

    This is a great little article. Didn’t know you are such a good writer.

  2. You sound like me..

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