sprayhawk

I show up at Avalon with a growler of beer, which is good.  There are people drinking at Avalon, which is good.  We do this all the time at Avalon, which is bad.

I am looking to escape the usual drink fest.  I want to have a drink fest elsewhere.  This could be difficult, as Thor is shitfaced.  He has seemingly discovered gin for the first time and is unleashing its awesome power one stiff gin and tonic after another.  “You just squeeze the lime in!” he shouts.

Then there is the living room, which is nothing short of ridiculous.  Sweaty salsa dancing.  One guy.  Two girls.  Is this a U.N. dance party or something?  Cultural investigations workshop?  I don’t want to dance salsa with the same two girls that salsa dance over here all the time.  I don’t even know how to salsa dance.  I stand and watch them shake their hips for a couple of minutes.  I sip at my growler and consider my exit strategy.  But wait!  One of them just took off her pants.

She walks around the house in her boy short underwear, though her t-shirt is still on.  No one makes a comment.  This is “normal”.  Thor talks to her in the kitchen as if they have bumped into each other at the post office.  A large Brazilian man walks by without a shirt on.  OK.  Time to go.

And then Shaman brings out his semi-automatic rifle.  Now I’m fucked.  We are never going to leave.  I swear I have seen a Taliban member shoot this gun shot into the air on CNN.  It has a bayonet that pops out.  Everyone is enthralled.  The girls flee the kitchen.  The guys pass around the gun.  Bayonet out.  Bayonet in.  A girl peers in, saying, “it’s just compensation.”

Thor holds the gun in one hand and sips his gin and tonic with the other.  He replies, “It’s an extension.”

I’m torn.  Guns are interesting.  I take the gun and pretend to shoot things.  Very fulfilling.  As interest in the gun starts to wane, Shaman gets his shotgun out.  We spend another half hour assembling, disassembling, and pretending to shoot things with this gun.  I doubt I could shoot one of these guns even if I were given ammo.

The guns are put away at Shaman’s girlfriend’s forceful suggestion.  We all stand around looking at each other.  I seize the moment.  Tank says he knows of a bar where there are going to be a bunch of Peruvian girls.  Sounds good.  He seems less interested but I coax him, Shaman, and Thor into leaving Avalon.  Thor slams another gin and tonic and fills his flask with gin.  I rally them outside and we are off into the night.  I drive.  It’s 1:03am.

Thor is drinking from his flask in the front seat.  As we approach downtown, I ask Thor kindly to stop waving about his flask with his window down.  “What?  What’s the fucking problem?  You see any cops?” he yells.  “You see any fucking cops?  Hey you!” he yells at a group of pedestrians.  “You!  You a fucking cop?  You a fucking cop?  Didn’t fucking think so!” Thor is an eloquent fucking gentleman.  He pours more gin down his throat.

We get to the bar and assess the situation.  There is an upstairs and a downstairs.  Shaman is already missing.  We go downstairs to the dance floor.

There is exactly one Peruvian girl at the bar.

I realize Shaman is still missing so I go look for him.  Thor follows.  We go upstairs and find Shaman.  He describes to us how there is a fridge near the bathroom that can be broken into.  He goes into great detail about pulling on a hidden wire, and the possibilities of limitless free beer.  Maybe later.

The four of us go back downstairs.  Tank is uninterested and sits at the side.  Shaman disappears again.  Thor and I track down the Peruvian girl and her non-Peruvian friend.  We dance.

There is a guy with an electronic cigarette.  It is an invention designed to get around no smoking laws.  The device looks like a black cigarette, but when inhaled, a blue LED lights up at the tip.  I don’t know why it is blue.  Why not red?  Why is the cigarette black?  I point this out to Thor and explain the situation to him.

“Fuck this guy!  Fuck this guy!” Thor starts yelling.  “Fuck this guy!” He stomps his foot.  People start looking at him.  Thor walks over to a circle of people and pushes his way in.  “Fuck that guy!” He yells at their faces.

“Yeah!” one of the guys in the circle calls back.  “Fuck that guy!”  People respond well to enthusiasm.  Thor forgets what he is yelling about and stumbles off.

I see him trying the electronic cigarette later in the night.  Goddamn hypocrite.

Last call.

We step outside and the night air feels good.  Here it becomes easier to separate the drunk from the very drunk.  Thor is very drunk.  Shaman is drunk.  I am sober.  Tank is possibly more sober.

A guy with a camera takes a photograph of Shaman.  Shaman chases him down the street saying that he is in the witness protection program and the photograph must be deleted to protect his identity.  This is amazing to watch.  “You have to, dude.  You have to,” Shaman says, following the guy as he walks.  Eventually the photograph is deleted and Shaman returns triumphantly.

Tank wants to go home.  Thor and Shaman want to go to an after party.  I tell Tank I’ll give him a ride home and then meet the other two at the party.  I drive Tank home and then drive home myself, abandoning Thor and Shaman.

Apparently the after party was attended primarily by Germans.  Thor and Shaman walk home.  Thor doesn’t remember it.  He probably puked.  He always pukes.