Sunday, September 06, 2009

Paying the Bar Tab Insurance

K just called. It turns out they never paid the bar tab. According to the bartender, K just looked at his credit card and then walked out of the bar, ostensibly to call me to discuss how much ass UMD kicked, how drunk he was, and that he was going to house me when he got down here.

Now this is all very ha-ha funny, and naturally I would have made all that up if it hadn't actually happened, but there is an important question lingering here: How fucking flatlined, how fucking completely stone dead from alcohol poisoning do you have to be in that bar before the bartender looks at you and finally says "ok pal, i think you've had nearly enough."

When K called me as they left the bar yesterday, it was very clear to me that his brain, drowning in alcohol, was sending out distress signals. It was trying to tell someone, anyone, to get its body to a doctor, and fast. But of course his brain, trapped behind the wall it had built around itself with Bloody Marys, could only manage to send out something that sounded like "Iaahhumm gunna fuhhh-gun houwszzeyoudude."

This assessment was proven to be true 10 minutes ago when Kelvin told me that he was sure he hadn't paid the bar tab yesterday because he "doesn't remember doing any math."

If only Paying the Bar Tab Insurance existed :-)