It was a fun afternoon of surfing and laying in the sun. When we were at the beach, Taylor’s friend spotted her and came over to chat for a bit. I overheard Taylor talking about day drinking and never liking to go out late. I can’t help but join the conversation. Me too, I hate going out late! “Right? I’m in bed by 9.” I know, some people don’t go out until like 10, I’m like, sorry, I’m in for the night. Taylor is already talking about lunch. Well, not so much food but alcohol. “I want margaritas.” Who doesn’t?
So once everyone is cleaned up, our group walks to Main Street for lunch. To Lulu’s it is. Rob’s choice. A Mexican place. I’ve passed it a million times – it’s close to Brick+Mortar – but have never been here. Rob, Erin, and JJ drink beer; Mike, Taylor, and I, margaritas. They are strong and delicious. Taylor orders hers frozen and is convinced there is less alcohol in it. (That might sound a little crazy if I never order frozen, simply because I think they’re more watered down than on the rocks). So she orders a shot to pour into it. Rob orders an appetizer for the table. It’s obvious he is the leader of this group. It’s nice to sit back and let him figure everything out. I hate thinking.
I order the tuna ceviche which basically sucks. Mike gets fish tacos which are bomb. (Mike will hate me for saying that phrase.) We’re on our second round of margaritas and now I am really feeling it. It probably doesn’t (or does?) help that I’m sitting directly in the sun. I can actually feel the left side of my body getting burnt. No complaints here. Someone mentions Mad Dog. And now all the guys are teasing Taylor about Mad Dog coming out. Apparently, she turns into Mad Dog when she gets drunk. I defend her. We’re both on our second margarita and actually, I’ve drank more than her, so… shut it.
We pay our bill and are on to the next place. Down the street to O’Brien’s – the Irish bar. Again, I know it, but have never been here. I like it. It’s crowded but not so much that we can’t find a booth to squeeze into. This is where I should have cut myself off, but one beer can’t hurt, right? Yes, I will take a blue moon.
Taylor is cracking me up. “I steal all the time and I don’t feel bad.” Oh my God, what do you steal? “I take toilet paper and I don’t care.” Wow. That is badass. Rob is preaching about California. “You are in the most beautiful place you could be in America.” Taylor and I get to know each other more and find out that we are both the middle child and weirdly have a lot in common. Our signs come up which I always think is fascinating and we have completely cut ourselves off from talking with the boys. Because we are now best friends. I wish I didn’t have to go to work tonight (yea, did I mention that?). So it’s time to go.
Mike and I go back to the apartment. I have just enough time to shower and get ready while blasting Billy Joel (a sure sign that I’ve been drinking). We both head back out together. The rest of the clan is still out – at The Galley now, across the street from B+M – so Mike and I can park the car where I usually do for work. I circle the lot and there’s no spot. Well, I don’t want to be late, so I get out and let Mike find a spot while I run into work. They will surely stop into B+M later.
I feel guilty walking into work, like I’m afraid to get caught that I’ve been drinking. As if anyone here cares. It’s not long before I feel hungover and miserable. I hate my tables. At one point, the hostess tells me that my boyfriend is here. I circle the place (it’s not that big) and Mike is nowhere to be found. That’s weird.
At 10:30 I take a shot and feel immediately drunk/better. I should have done this earlier. Finally, it’s closing time, and I walk out of the place with Brooke. Realize I don’t have the car keys. Mike does. Shit. He parked the car. I figured he would have come in while I was working, but I didn’t really think about it enough to text him. Not that I could anyway, because I get no service in the bar. I call Mike. Text him. Nothing. It’s around 2am at this point. And now another realization – my apartment keys are in the car. Whenever I come to work I always leave them in the car because I know I’ll be driving home. This sucks. Adam, the DJ, offers me a ride home. We drive through the parking lot first and yup, my car is still there. Hopefully Mike got a ride home and is just passed out right now. Hopefully.
Adam pulls up and waits for me. I am now banging on our door, yelling Mike’s name. The windows are open but I can’t see inside. I keep banging. There’s no way he wouldn’t wake up if he was in there. He’s not there. I can’t believe this. I’m going to murder him. Adam has already told me I could sleep at his place – he lives really close by, so with no other options, I accept his offer. Awesome.
Adam lives alone with his dog, Ziggy. “He might bark when you walk in.” He doesn’t. He is a medium sized dog, black-ish with some white and the face of a collie. His body is going crazy as he runs around my legs. It’s hard to be mad when there is such a cute dog in front of you. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Vodka?” Water. Adam is now making quesadillas. “Do you want some?” No thanks. He makes them and brings them over to me and puts them in my face. “Sure you don’t want one?” You know, if you had a girlfriend she would be fat. He laughs, and talks about the “DJ stereotype.” I figure he talks to a lot of girls because girls are constantly going up to the DJ and requesting music. Maybe so, but according to Adam, girls don’t actually want to date a DJ. Because DJ’s get around, I guess. I never really thought about it.
After we talk for a little, Adam gets me blanket and pillow and I fall asleep on the couch. Ziggy is close by. I wake up at 7:30 with a text from Mike. Obviously, still pissed off. Ignore it and fall back asleep. An hour later I’m up and playing with Ziggy. He is so cute! He has a toy and brings it over to me. He wants to play tug of war but every time I touch it he growls but barely holds onto it, letting me take it from him. Then he’s biting me but it feels like nothing. Tough guy. Adam wakes up and offers to drive me home. By now I’ve responded to Mike’s text. Still pissed off. But he is coming to pick me up. I thank Adam and walk outside when Mike texts me he’s here. It looks like I’m doing the walk of shame in my clothes from last night and makeup still on my face. Cool. Now that I’m in the car Mike apologizes. I bet. I think how he doesn’t know Adam. And I just slept at his apartment. And he’s a DJ.
OK, I get it now, the DJ stereotype is a thing. Once back to the apartment I immediately shower. Mike ended up passing out at Rob’s while he was waiting for me to text him to pick me up. I didn’t know that was the plan. I guess we never really made a plan. I’m still mad. “Do you want me to make you breakfast?” Yes. “What do you want? A bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich?” Yes.
…OK. I forgive you.
*Usher Ft. Pitbull