It’s a Flashback: One Sizzling June Night

Part One:

Tonight’s Dark Side of Drunk begins at the wildest party spot in all of the ATX: Abuelo’s!

Gigi and I roll over to the fabulous Mexican restaurant courtesy of LP, who has an important errand to run at the mall.  We belly up to the bar and find the “new” Jimmy.  He is cute, intense—rather stony-faced, in fact.  He’s really no replacement for Jimmy, but he’ll have to do for now.  Hope he likes to hear two gorgeous and sassy women gossip about life!

We observe a guy walk into the bar fitting the following description: mullet, tanktop and excessive turquoise jewelry including silver feather earrings and rings on every finger. 
Gigi thinks he might be a professional wrestler.  LP comes in just as we are discussing this and opines: “Native American with a beef.  And a love for turquoise.”

“Could he be a shaman?” I ask.

This makes both Gigi and I think of a certain poetic shaman in Dallas. 

Alas, it is time for Gigi and LP to head home.  But first, they will drop me at the Triple Cinco for the second part of my evening.

Part Two:

El Dilector’s buddy Puck, his girlfriend and her friend Tiny come over and the group of us venture back to The Lair.  Ahhh, it’s like coming home.  We take up our customary spot at the end of the bar and wait for the magic to happen.

“It’s the witching hour,” El Dilector says.  “Sixteen minutes in.”

Puck and his crew take a table in the corner.   El Dilector and I head out to the front porch area for a cigarette and observation of the peeps heading down Red River.

Puck joins us and relays the following statement from Tiny: “El D is cool.  I feel like if I weren’t married, he might be hitting on me.”

Oh, Tiny.  It really doesn’t matter if you’re married or not.  He IS hitting on you!  Isn’t that delightful, knowing you’ve caught his eye?

Puck and El Dilector attempt to take me on a walk down Memory Lane.  Puck wants to discuss who’s “smarter.” El Dilector eyes him.  “In terms of what?”

Puck decides not to answer that.  Instead, it seems his lady friends are itching to roll out so he claps El Dilector on the shoulder.  “I like your sister,” Puck says.  “She anchors your ludicrous-ness.”

With that, Puck and his girls are out and it’s El Dilector and me to bring this party back.  After-Party is looking pretty small right about now.

“Did you hear Hammer Pants are coming back?” El Dilector says.  “They’re calling them—um, what do you call it when people in Muslim countries have multiple wives?—that’s right—harems.  They’re calling them Harem Pants.”

The little hand is creeping close to the two.  El Dilector scrolls through his phone, mumbling the possibilities as he goes.  “Did you know married women love me?” he boasts. 
“Well, I suppose you need a pair of harem pants,” I tell him.  “Or, do they need the pants?” Oops, perhaps I have had too many vodkas.

“Hmm…that girl is 19,” El Dilector says.  “Never mind.” He shoves his phone back in his pocket.  “We go Beauty Bar now!”

It’s ten till two but what the hell, it’s worth a try.  We LITERALLY jog over to the bar.  El Dilector procures drinks somehow and we suck them down.  He heads back to the bar to finish his first drink and get a second one.  The clock is practically striking two a.m.  I am impressed with his alcohol prowess.

I watch some people bumble around the dance floor. 

“Who are these fools?  Bad dancers, right?!” I say to a blond boy at the edge of the crowd.

“Some of them are my friends.”

“Oh!  Sorry about that.”  I attempt to look impish and adorable.

“It’s okay—you’re right—they totally can’t dance.”

The lights are coming on and El Dilector has returned from his sojourn.  “I have a connection—a secret bar.” He looks at the blond boy, who we’ll call The Danish.  To me, he says, “Bring him.”

The Danish shrugs.  “I’m game.”

Next thing I know, we’re walking around the east side with a motley crew from The Beauty Bar trying to find a mythical after-hours bar.  At one point I actually remove my shoes. 

Yes, definitely too many vodkas. 

And then—and then—we find it.  Apparently there is secret drinking that goes on in a trailer-type building on the east side.  It’s crowded, hot, and dark and I’m not sure there’s indoor plumbing.  But hey!  They are serving drinks for free.  The Danish manages to get me a vodka cranberry.  Sweet!

Inevitably, it’s time for After-Party and El D rallies a huge group.  I am pretty sure it’s the motley crew and then some extras.  We troop over to the Triple Cinco and El Dilector talks the concierge into letting all 27 people up to his place. 

The Danish and I sit back and watch the madness ensue.  My favorite two things are the following: one pair of hot pants (on a man), and one pimptastic ghetto bike (think Snoop) complete with boombox.

The next morning, I get a text from El D with the follow up: “There are tire marks on my floor.”

-Shakira 07.20.09