I sat at my table at work looking at the clock and wondering what I would do this weekend. No plans had yet been made, but I wanted to do something, anything. My phone rang and at the other end sounded good news, an opportunity to gather with some friends, watch a basketball game or two and drink some beer slash liquor. Press 7 to delete the message and begin to pack up my laptop. By now the building has emptied itself of occupants with the exception two or three of us. It’s so quiet. It’s so The Office. Organize the stack of CDs, move the sugar laced walnuts to their position in the phalanx, place my notepad on top of it all, like a makeshift tin roof and finally zip up my laptop. Which way to I need to go in order to escape the rush of the rest of the convicts on their merry ways home? Okay, I go to the end of the highway and turn right and I’m almost there. Liquor store? Next to Subway, in the mini strip mall located at the edge of the suburban compound. So many choices I feel rushed and pressured to make a decision quickly. Vodka? No, I’m not in college anymore. Rum? Hmm, maybe. Tequila? No, no drugs for me tonight. How about gin and tonic? Good on the stomach with the inclusion of those bubbles. Yes, yes, gin and tonic the hedge hog it will be. Oh, didn’t even notice this section - whiskey. By far, the whiskeys are the best dressed. The Jack Daniels line is fabulous. Certainly can’t pick it up at Target or Wal Mart or HEB. Nope, we’re talking boutiques baby. Keep moving. Just make it to the cashier. Stop. New seasonal beers have just arrived. Nope, just gin and tonic. Thank you, you too. I arrive and the dogs greet me with slobber and wagging tails. A platter of 150 chicken nuggets from Chick-Fil-A sits on the table, or as my dad says Chick Filla. Hilarious. Pour, sizzle. Pour, ice. Shake. Wash, rinse and repeat. For best results, use the gin and tonic conditioner. Greetings. Time to take a seat. It’s a blow out. Wash, rinse and repeat. Beer is a great conditioner. I decided to walk over to the nuggets, who haven’t been ravaged or opened for that matter. Commercial break. Pop, the sound of a plastic gong opening. It’s the sound of delicatessens. Ranch and honey mustard. Tag team champions of the world I tell ya. Grab, dip, pop and repeat. We make the trek down the street to play Rock Band, raze hell and retreat once we’ve over stayed our welcome. I see a friend from a previous job. We step outside and catch up. Time to rock. The bottle of gin sits on the table looking like a groupie. Tonic left him. Just me and you buddy. It’s a sabotage. Beastie Boys. I can’t stand it. Time to play the drums. This is hard. Much harder than the last time I played drums in a band. The gin is working it’s surround sound magic and I’m floating. Eventually, the hosts disappear. Time to make our retreat. We walk back to the house and talk about who knows what. Time for me to head home. I’m tired. I open my laptop and sign in to Facebook. I wonder if any plans have been made yet. Nope. I’d like to do something tomorrow, anything. I don’t pack up my laptop before falling asleep. I don’t even remember falling asleep. I don’t even unpack myself. I wake up the next morning fully clothed. I wonder if there are any plans for today?
