I am running. For what reason, I have no idea. The lights are bright, dancing like stars. They all have fascinating little tails behind them that swirl and twirl as I move. I throw my head back and look up, only to see blackness, more lights, and smaller lights in the distance. I look down the street and hear the noise. Traffic. Lots of traffic. I better not go out there because I know I'm way too drunk to dodge a Buick. The heat isn't oppressive, and as a matter of fact, the weather is perfect. I have no idea what time it is, but I know it's dark, so it must be past 8 or 9. Do I care? I don't think so, because I don't even know where we're going, and I don't care. I just know my friends are here, and it's the greatest feeling in the world.
Whoa! What a sweet gorilla! It's here on the sidewalk in the middle of the street? I haven't been this drunk and felt this good in a long, long time. It was the Hefeweizen. Yes, that sweet nectar of the gods was brought to us in gallon jugs. I think we went through nine or ten of those things. Glorious. What was that place that JohnL convinced us was so awesome? Holy Cow. That's it. What a glorious place to drink. Well, they had glorious beer, anyway. Where was I? I think I should climb the gorilla. It looks mountable. Yes, yes it is. I grab and pull up with my nectar-weakened arms. I manage a half climb, half hang to pose for a picture for Jen. The girls, at this point in the adventure, have deemed it hilarious that we all have decided to climb and/or mount and pose with the gorilla. The girls don't climb, mind you, because even though they are as drunk as the boys, girls just don't climb. They were laughing at us, though, and we couldn't care less. Little did they know there was more jocularity to come.
As I gaze into the gallon jug from Holy Cow now, it's no longer filled with hefeweizen, but spare change. Many coins, silver and copper, rich with many memories of times past. Good times I've shared with those I love. Vegas just happened to be home to many of those good times. Papa's was another haven for hilarity. I got a call tonight where I shared with my brother Brownie (G-Dub, but another story entirely) a nice recollection of the good old days. He's not a brother by blood or a brother by marriage, but no less than a brother in my heart. His call made me smile and made my day. Cheers!-- to all of my brothers-- you know who you are....CZ
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2 comments:
Brothers don't share...Brothers gotta hug...and when they can't they call...Na-Daddy...You have been my freind for more than a decade now...But as I look at the original pseudo-party squad pic (it's the one with amy whatsherfuck, sam, me and you at papa's) on my mantle I quickly realize... Over the years...all of us have become family...We have been there for each other in good times and bad...Weddings and Funerals...I can't be there to give my brutha a hug...but i am in there in sprit and as i fall asleep tonight I will pray for you, your step mom, your brother and his son...and after that I will thank God for the group of friends I have made...OK...I'm tearing up a little now...so I will sign off...I hope sharing man love...doesnt take points off my man card...
That memory makes me smile -- it's but one of about a million ;)
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