So Saturday night, Rob and I went to a party. It was in Indiana, close to an hour's drive. So we began the trek. We were joking as we went about how odd it was we were going to a party in Indiana. But it was St. Patrick's day, so we weren't about to go anywhere in the city. Besides, we were sick of the scene in Chicago and it promised to have some interesting folks in attendance, so we decided to go for it.
We were somewhere between Indiana and the deep heart of the ghetto when Rob realized he was dangerously low on gas. There was no way we were going to make it to Indiana. We were a bit worried we might get stranded on the side of the road. We passed an exit with a shell station but just barely missed the exit. The next exit had a McDonalds and I was hoping it was far enough south that we were in one of the suburbs instead of in the ghetto. We figured if there was a McDonalds there was probably other signs if civilization. So we passed the Mc Donalds, and some factories and then were emerging in a rather scary neighborhood. The buildings were burnt out and decrepit and there were a lot of roaming crack heads looking at the Jetta with hungry eyes. Hmm. This wasn't the adventure we were looking for so we decided to head back to the freeway. I suggested turning around and going back to the prior exit for the Shell station. Rob thought that could wind up being more of a headache than it was worth and we should go down a few more exits. But then we couldnt find the entrance to our side of the freeway, so we got on the opposite way, went to the Shell station, then back on the freeway toward Indiana.
We got to the party some time later, with alcohol in tow. We started drinking and mingling and actually having some decent conversations. After awhile we wound up going on another liquor run and buying all sorts of stuff. Through the night, I wound up drinking tequila rose, chartreuse, vodka and grape puckers. I got increasingly drunk. We decided to go to a twenty four hour place down the street. I drank my coffee and nibbled on some food that I can't quite remember what it was.
As we were leaving, there was a table filled with hicks who had been sitting across from us the whole while. One of them noticed my ryo-ohki backpack. Soon they were all pointing and laughing hysterically, and gawking with their mouths open. Wow, talk about slack jawed yokels. This reminded me of why, despite all the cool folks I've met from there, I'm glad that I don't live in Indiana.
So we went home, I passed out, and couldn't get out of bed through much of the next day due to my hangover. Rob teased me about drinking like a teenager and I was reminded yet again that I'm turning thirty, and just can't drink like I used to...