Drunken Backflip

2002-07-31 - 9:05 a.m.

There may be a light at the end of the tunnel to the bank story. I'll keep you posted if anything miraculous happens.

It's payday again kiddies, and you know what that means. Debauchery is just around the corner. I have to play it cool though, since rent's due and so is the cell phone billage.

Tonight, dinner and a movie. How classic! Actually, last night was dinner and a movie too. Good thing I'm going to the Backflip tomorrow night with Stoo, heaven forbid you folks think I'm a creature of habit.

So here's a little history on the Backflip. It's the first club I ever went to here in San Francistown. It's a nice little club with a great atmosphere. There's a swimming pool in one of the rooms, since it's actually located on the first floor of some old hotel. The swimming pool isn't important to this story, but I thought it was neat. Anyway, the first three of us to move here went there as our first trek into the local scene. Fast forward through the drinking and blathering on with various barflies including the supposed conga player for Mr. Carlos Santana (I still don't doubt that it was him, he was older, Hispanic, drunk, and chatting it up with girls half his age, and the bartenders confirmed his story). Let's just get to the part where I was face down in the toilet. One of the bouncers came in and told me it was time to go. I agreed with him and proceeded to thank him for his concern and tell him that bouncers didn't give a fuck about you in New York, that they would have just left me in that toilet until I was sober enough to use a mop. He politely showed me the door, and I waited outside for my compatriots to come out and find me.

Tomorrow night I'll be a bit more conservative in my alcoholic consumption...maybe.