Monday, November 15, 2010

i like parties

So, the other night, I was offered drugs at a bar... at least I think so. I was sitting there, drinking a Sam Adams, when the 50-ish man to my left started chatting to me. We exchanged pleasantries -- name, job, etc. A few minutes in to our superficial conversation, he asks me, "Do you like to party?"

-- pause --

I am from a small town. I have no clue how to navigate the drug scene. I've never been offered drugs before, except some pot in college. I'm really "street" smart in a lot of ways, but no matter how many times I watch Blow, I'm never going to be a hip to the whole culture. I'll probably never be hip either, especially if I keep using the word "hip."

-- continue --

So he asks me if I like to "party." Not for a second thinking it was anything but asking if I like to go out, I say, "Oh yah, sure. Mainly just on the weekends -- gotta get up early for work, ya know." He replies, "Well, it is the weekend, do you want to party?" And then it dawns on me. Ooooooh, PARTY. I'm an idiot. I whisper to my friend who I was out with, "He means like coke, right?" She nods. I mumble some answer to Mr. Partier that I've been out since that afternoon and have to get up early, but thanks so much anyway.

HAH. What a night. I can't wait to tell this story to my friend James, because I'm sure his response is going to be, "Why didn't you take him up on his offer?!?" Either way, I count it as a right of passage.

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