tying one on
Last night I tied one on with my co-workers. That's how I kept pitching it all week; are you coming to the Maddy after the staff lunch? I'm going to tie one on and you should, too. Luckily, seven thousand staff members were leaving, it was Mason's birthday and my department head is Irish, so what could have been a very sad exercise in the continuing series of "Rocketbride proves she's still got it!" became a royal raving bender for a number of people. (I'm talking like I made this night up or something. Actually, it was the girl who took me aside who was the main power behind it; I was just along for the ride.)
I wasn't even sure that I could tie one on. Ever since I had the Blake, my aging mamma body turns small amounts of alcohol into party-killing nausea. Sometimes I just can't drink fast enough. Fortunately, within the first 20 minutes of my arrival, my department head ordered a round of Bushmill's shots, so I was well on my way by the end of my token salad and first pint of Steamwhistle.
I spent a great deal of the night with Mason, which is pretty much how our relationship runs in or out of school. As the two of us were loaded (he more than me, I must point out), I pretty much dropped the pitiful charade I try to maintain, the one in which he's not my favourite person on staff. There was probably a little too much hand-holding, but when I woke up this morning wondering if I'd embarrassed myself, I remembered that at that point in the night, the table was filled with people who were leaving Bat Masterson. And of the ones who were staying, I was never going to be understood by gym teachers or the tech guy anyway.
I had made a backup plan with Dirk, as I couldn't imagine myself wanting to close down the Maddy; the idea was that I would tie one on with fellow and former Bat Masterson teachers until club o'clock, then hook up with Dirk and dance to some stompy beats until sober. This was a very practical plan on the face of it, as the Boy couldn't be both designated driver AND babysitter and I had to find my own way safely home, hence: dancing until stone sober. The fatal flaw in the plan was something I should have anticipated sooner, i.e. that Dirk would fall asleep. Because that's never happened before, has it?
When I found this out at 10:15, I had been wrecked for almost 2 hours, and was faced with the prospect of sleeping in the car to avoid my own messy death. So we did our best to sober me up with cold water and hot tea ("we only have it iced!") and dancing to the jukebox in the upper room. I discovered that Alan the LTO (who endeared himself to me by trying get everyone to go to the Dance Cave along with the two of us) is not only an old friend of Tania I. and a closet Spider Robinson fan, he's also a cool dancer. He's on my list for my birthday dancing due to our shared inability to stop dancing once we'd started.
By 1 a.m. everybody else was ready to go home, so it was be sober or be homeless. I most likely shouldn't have driven, but I was sober enough to watch myself very carefully for signs of sloppiness, and I kept it frosty all the way home. I was surprised to find the Boy still up when I got in, but very happy all the same. It's hard to snuggle into someone who's sleeping when you're still coming down from tying one on. We had a chance to chat before I went down into dreams of the night just passed, only more extreme. At least, I don't think Al V. embroidered his initials on my pocket, and I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have let us bring sleeping bags into the Maddy.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*