It was surprisingly difficult to schedule a day to spend drinking with my friend Diego. Surprising because drinking is kind of what we do when we hang out. Drinking, eating, bitching, and mining a pure inner-anger and bitter rage. It has always been a very rewarding use of time, so we do it at least once a week. Drinking with the guys on a Thursday is something I would recommend to anyone. However, the drinking day I had been looking for needed to be something all-together different than our usual meet-n-chug, it needed to be defining. It was worth the wait.
We had decided that last Saturday would be the day. There were some known complications: chores, other friends, spouses, food, and a movie for which we already had tickets. The thought was to meet up at my place around noon to take a little stroll through my bar, then we would grab some lunch, have a drink or two, run a few errands, then Diego would get his wife, Omar would be back around then, and we could all go see the movie. Booze would frame each part of our day.
Noon arrive right on time. Diego arrived late. Well, not late I guess, but I had put out several bottles of scotch and chilled some gin, tonic, and vermouth and was excited to get started. The clock on the microwave had been laughing at me since around 11:30 and found my fidgeting to be quite amusing. That microwave can be a real asshole sometimes. I'm sure it showed "noon" on some microwave somewhere when Diego arrived, and, after the dog finished with her traditional greeting, I poured us some scotch. The Duke was for the casual palette and the Highland Park was for the peat. Both are good, neither are brilliant, and I like drinking them back-to-back. We tasted them and decided which to fill our glasses with. I think the super-awesome ice-sphere was put to use, too, maybe. Then, something odd happened: we didn't start bitching about what was pissing us off.
Diego has the look of someone a little sad about not wanting to beat the hell out of you. Underneath his gruff exterior is the soul of a lumberjack that named his ax "Exhibit A" and thinks people look a little like trees, and under that is a selfless person who do anything for a friend. He is easily one of the best people I have ever known. One day I hope to perjure myself for him. I like to think that our drink-n-bitch time helps to vent his anger as much as it does mine. So, it was strange that we didn't start into it like we usually do. Instead we talked about booze and anime. Strong booze. Violent anime.
We didn't watch our show in silence. Neither did we really talk. It would be most accurate to say we "commented". We didn't drink to explore the flavors or to get trashed. We drank because it was a nice day, good company, and we were watching a fun show. Also, being dudes, we could just grunt and make crude gestures at each other to have a solid conversation. That's one of the awesome things about being a dude. Also, belching, farting, and scratching yourself in public are cool. I'm sure ladies are just as capable at doing these things, but it is hard to believe they have as much fun doing them. If I am wrong about that, could someone please send me the YouTube link proving it? After we watched the show, belched, farted, and scratched ourselves, we grunted our need for lunch.
A day of drinking requires a hearty lunch. A hearty pizza lunch. And beer. And poor sentence structure. It was a particularly pleasant afternoon, so we sat on the patio. A sunny, cool afternoon, sitting on a patio, eating pizza and drinking beer. We found things to grouse about, but it was hard not to just be glad to be alive. The pizza place had changed their dough recipe, the new one wasn't as good. The beers we tried were not-so-great. None of that mattered. We watched people walk by. We took our time as other customers filtered in and out. It wasn't a lunch-to-remember, but it was certainly a lunch to have. It will be one of those things in life that add to the positive side of the scale. Then it was time to find a bar.
The bar we planned to go to was closed, rented out for the full day for some SXSW event. We didn't really have a Plan B, so we picked the last place we had thought about on the drive over. They were open. Their bar was fully stocked. A stout and a shot for me. Diego just had a beer. The bartender was pleasant and chatty. The bar was sunny. There was terrible art on the walls. The shit was shot, the booze consumed, we were just killing time. One of the best things about not being at work is the opportunity to just kill time without guilt, and we had both had a busy work-week. We dragged out doing nothing for as long as we could until we burned off our buzz and it was time to get a few things done. Good bye bar. Hello chores.
We drove to the beer supply store for cider yeast, and to the grocery store for 5 gallons of apple juice. It was every bit as exciting as it sounds. No, really. It was that exciting. Commerce combined with jazz-hands. At the grocery store I was going to buy a cheap beer to review that week, but Diego decided I was a giant ninny and over-ruled me. Friends don't let friends cheap out on beer reviews. That beer ended up being one of the most popular reviews on the site. Diego is wise and looks good in hats. I'm glad I dragged him along on my chores.
Chores done, it was time to split up and collect our people for the movie. Did I mention that we had been drinking for while at this point? We had burned off most of the buzz loitering at the last bar, but this little break was needed. I was glad I wouldn't be driving later. Not that I was drunk. I just felt super fat and gross, and didn't want to drive. Anyone over 30 knows what I mean. You all still think I was drunk, though.
Luckily Diego has the constitution of an elephant. He is only person I've ever known who broke the bank at the all-you-can-eat-wings night. So, we rallied and went to see our movie. While we waited in the lobby, Omar bought a round, the last one of the night.
The movie was great. The day was done. We all went back to our homes. It was a great day, everything I had hoped for (except, no dancing girls on hovercrafts, still waiting for that).
That is what drinking with a Diego-style friend is like. We felt free to be and do as we liked, without worry. Details don't get stressed. Jokes are told. Insults and jabs traded through smiles. Drinking with an old friend, one who has seen you at your worst and your best, who has picked you up and put you down, that is one of life's great joys. So, go find your Diego, right now, and buy him a drink. Then buy him another. He deserves it. And so do you.
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