The Upside of Friday Night

I was going to tell you about Ashley's visit and purposely gloss over Friday night but after hearing the events of that evening repeated to me over and over again, I felt that I had to share. To do otherwise would save me from certain embarrassment but it wouldn't be terribly authentic. So here it goes and while you read, please remember that up until three months ago, the most exciting time I had on a Friday evening was cleaning my toilets.

After a couple of positive business meetings, Ash and I decided to have dinner in the "city" on the main drag. We were celebrating. Since the college is nearby, every shop is either a pub, microbrewery, boutique restaurant or used bookstore. Using the principles of "The Secret", we nabbed a great parking spot behind the most popular row of bars and smugly congratulated each other on our mutual enlightenment. Oh yeah, we were golden. Unfortunately, neither of us thought to look back at the car because if we had, we would have seen maturity, sobriety, dignity and common sense waving good bye.

We started with a bottle of Pinot Grigio (of course), mussels and some fried clams. The conversation was intense because Ash and I just do not know how to have a light discussion with each other. We eased into a second bottle of wine for the main course and by the time that we were finished with dinner, we were toasty.

We left the restaurant and ambled over to one of the pubs where the bikers like to hang out. We walked up to the bar and made the first in a series of poor decisions. Ashley ordered both of us a shot of Jagermiester, or as I fondly call it: poison from Lucifer's bowels. I had heard horror stories about Jager and its equally deadly, hot cinnamon cousin, Goldschlager, but I had never partaken.

Now, I know why.

Under normal circumstances, I probably wouldn't have had more than one shot but there was this girl standing up at the bar and we started chatting. She announced that it was her 24th birthday and she was a bit freaked out because she was closing in on 25. I remember shaking my head, laughing and telling her to wait until her fortieth. "It's a doozy." I said. She took a step back, all Moon Zappa gag-me-with-a-spoon valleygirl and said, "Like, oh my God. You so do not look forty. You look, like, thirty two at the most."

And with that statement, more shots were ordered and consumed.

It was awful. At some point, Ashley stopped making sense and the world took on this unpleasant blur around the edges. Apparently, I was still in possession of a few brain cells, though, because I called my special friend to come and get us.

It became abundantly clear that Newton's Law of Motion was spot on. To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.