Drunk, Half Naked, and Yelling at the Mailbox

John,

You’ve given me a lot to work with here so please, bear with me. I’ve taken your 4 points and will attempt to respond in point form as well.

1. one single pro-American Muslim. I consider the existence of such a person and fundamental to the acceptance of your argument. That being said, you'd need enough pro-American Muslims in the general area of downtown NYC to justify the Mosque.

The area is already a large Muslim cultural center that naturally wishes to expand. A mosque has existed for at least 20 years on Warren Street between Broadway and Church. It's moving south 2 blocks and west 1 block. That's all. (Just check out the number of Halal shops-on google earth. Mmmm Donairs!!). The building is a piece of very convenient real estate that happens to be large enough for their plans.

2. What would the response be if someone opened a Christian church in Mecca?

Really? What you’re essentially saying by that statement, is that “We won’t play nice until Saudi Arabia plays nice. That’s hardly taking the high-road or leading by example, something America used to do very well.

But let’s take a look at some other ‘insensitive, or passive-aggressive structures.

The McDonalds in Hiroshima near their ’Ground Zero’

(The polish crosses in Auschwitz)

The Shinto Shrine at Pearl Harbour:

An "eternal flame" for the Chicago fire


3. I think the desire to put a mosque in down town NYC in spitting distance of ground zero is an act of insensitivity at best, and an act of outright in your face aggression at worst. I don't think it is a good idea to communicate to those Muslims around who actually do hate us that they have one.

This really has to do with perception. I would agree that a Massive Mosque with Minarets on the ashes of the WTC is distasteful. That is not what this is. Its a community centre that will include a gymnasium, concert hall, swimming pool, restaurant, and yes, a prayer room. The site wasn't chosen to create controversy, it was chosen b/c the Burlington Coat Factory closed a number of years ago.


4. How many Imams spoke up in public settings at all? Did any go to the White House and knock on them President Bushes door and ask to take the platform with him to declare that this was a terrible act and they would work hard to help fight these evil crazies who have distorted the Quran. Not one Muslim stand up and call it an act of evil and say this was not the will of Allah.

“Where was the Muslim outrage:

Muslim outrage:
it was there, but not reported in US Media who essentially said ‘We don’t want to hear from Muslims right now… we’re hurting’.


4. To you and to them I say - build your Mosque somewhere else.

Where would be acceptable? Will a mosque go unopposed if it were 5 blocks instead of 2? 10 blocks? . How about Murfreesboro, Tenn.? Temecula, Calif.? Sheboygan, Wis.? These are nowhere near ground zero, yet protesters are being invited to cook bacon, burn copies of the Koran, and shout down opponents. All while carrying sign s that say “We came unarmed (This time)” That’s not being insensitive, that’s downright hateful!!

How many Muslims have been beaten, killed, had their homes, businesses, and religious houses burned or vandalized in America? Simply for being Muslim? How much mis-directed fear and hatred is acceptable?


As to your challenge to find “one single pro-American Muslim. I consider the existence of such a person and fundamental to the acceptance of your argument. “
There ARE Muslims who love America. Their blood is just as red as any other American. Here are a few who you might want to argue with on if they deserve to freely practice:


Here


Here


Here


Here

Go on. Tell them and their families how "insensitive" they are.

Well... a new post opportunity... lots has happened since my last post... I got married, bought a house, got laid off, had a son, found a new job, and met my birth mother.

I'm sure that could use some expanding, but I'll leave it for now.

The other night at the bar, A Friend of mine, Let's call him Steve, was rapidly becoming drunk. He was eyeing up a girl at the bar. "What do you think would happen," he slurred "if I went up to her and told her she could have me for the night"?

"Girls don't go for that. You gotta be more subtle." I said.

Just then, someone else walked up to her and started hitting on her. Now the rules had changed. She was no longer the single girl alone at the bar. She was talking to someone, and if you were going to interrupt them, It had better leave her impressed, and him stunned and unable to continue.

"Here's the plan" I said. Not actually sure what plan I was talking about."All you have to do is walk up to her, give her a peck on the cheek, say 'sorry I'm late honey. Did you want to get going?'" and she'll be yours.

He seemed eager to try out this approach, but still a little lacking in the confidence... Then, as he was preparing his courage, I explained to his brother, Warren,what was about to happen.
Warren and I sat back and waited for what would surely result in some entertainment.

Then, to our surprise, (and I am not making this up). IT WORKED!! She
grabbed her jacket and stood up. He came back to our table, grabbed his jacket,
looked at me and mouthed the words 'now what?' his eyes full of panic. He had no car. He wasn't taking here anywhere.....


Le turned back to the girl and followed her out the door. He refuses to tell us what happened next...

Sunday I was up and out of the house to do some chores, then out with Vanessa's friends to go go-carting.

As we sat in the line up waiting to choose our cars, one stood out to me... actually it stood out to everyone.. it was pouring smoke out the tailpipe...lots of smoke... we suspected that it wouldn't be running for much longer.

Now at any go-cart track, there's always a car that is slower than the others, and it's usually not too obvious... So I did the math: if it were this car, It would have already been pulled off the track.. and there was no way I wanted to be behind a car pouring out enough smoke and oil to cause a Greenpeace protest. So I decided I'd drive it.

Turns out it was just well oiled (or over-oiled). I easily got ahead of most cars and by our third race there was only one car that proved to be a real challenge. Driven by Vanessa's friend Dina, She was driving like a pro, making every corner with a perfect line, and not giving me a chance to pass.

Finally, I got my chance, I wasn't about to let some 50 hours of video-game racing to go to waste. I slipped through the inside of a corner as she left just enough room. I was past!! All that was left to do was keep driving and hope I made it to the finish line. With her right on my tail... and what was that?? I was getting bumped!! She was trying to spin me out!! I held the next corner, and then it happened.

Her aggressive driving had bumped another car into the tires.. I heard the sound of squealing rubber and the crash. I looked back in time to see a car buried in what used to be a corner of the racetrack. Dina was still behind me but about 10 meters back...She had a guilty look on her face, and I leaned around to wave a finger at her in a 'You're a bad, bad, girl' fashion.

I was home free!! Just one more lap and my reputation as the Jacques Villeneuve
of 'Family-fun Go Carts and Mini-Golf' would be secure. I envisioned myself standing on the podium spraying the crowd with Champagne and signing endorsement contracts. I might have to settle for standing on a picnic table, spraying ginger-ale and writing my name on napkins. Hey, you gotta start somewhere.

Then it all fell apart. An attendant in greasy overalls jumped out in front of me.
"You!" He shouted, "pull over now!"

I pulled into the pits as he reached over and flipped the engine switch on the cart. The engine stopped immediately. "You're done for the day." He said.

"I'm What?" I had half a lap to go and I wasn't even part of the accident.

I thought about my options:
1. Explain to this two-bit, grease covered carnie that smells like stale eggplant that if he had any knowledge of racing, or even an ounce of common sense, He'd see that the people responsible for the crash were the ones in it.. not the person ahead of it.
2. Recognize that creating a scene in front of my girlfriend and her friends is probably not the way to further a relationship.

I bit my tongue, chose the second option and joined the rest of the gang while giving a sheepish grin to follow my 'oops' shrug.

Later that evening, we all got together for a bbq an dinner/drinks. I tried to stay subdued. Not drink too much, not tell any risqué jokes, and not discussing religion, politics or my ejection from the race. Overall, I think I met those goals pretty good.

Till my fourth beer....

Allow me to explain:
In Native American mythology, there's a story of a boy who finds an injured snake. He takes the snake home, and takes care of it until it gets better. Then, one day, out of no-where, the snake turns around and bites the boy. "I saved your life. Why did you bite me? " asks the boy. "I'm still a snake, it's what I do." Replied the snake.

In much the same way, I can only be the quiet, polite, guy at the party for so long until I have to be who I was born to be. Loud, Reckless, Fun, and a catalyst for others to make decisions that end with the phrase, "Oh Yeah? Well I can leap over FOUR lawn chairs in a row!!! Hold my beer, and I'll show you!!!"

Here's how it started:
While making small talk in the kitchen, I turned to Dina, and said "Let's play a game..."
Nervously, she asked "What kind of game?"
"We're going to run across the street to the bar, have a shooter, and return to the party in under 2 minutes, and we'll see if anyone notices." I explain.
"I'm in." She responded "Let's find someone else too!"
and the game had begun......
We ran across the street, walked straight up to the bar.
"You look like you're in a hurry." said the bartender. "What am I pouring?"

"Werewolves." I responded. It's my usual drink that brings out the craziness but doesn't taste as harsh as tequila.

"What's in it?" The bartender asked.

"Jack Daniels and Drambuie..and keep those bottles nearby. "I quipped," We'll be back in a half hour."

The bartender poured us 3 shots of liquid hysteria. We shot them down, and were on our way back to the dinner party.

On the second trip, Vanessa was suspicious. I brought her outside and our group increased by one more.

On trip number 3, the bartender said "Hey, Are you Graham?"

"The one and only" I replied, thinking that I was famous, well known, well liked, and respected...the alcohol was swelling not only my liver, but my ego as well.

"You forgot your credit card on your last visit." He laughed at me, tossing the credit card onto the bar as I hung my head in embarrassment.

Soon the entire dinner party was either on their way home, or on their way to the bar for a few more drinks. I was having a blast with all of them. I probably had too much to drink, so I took a cab.

The next morning was holiday Monday. Time for the Labour Day Classic. A full day of Tailgating, and football. My phone was right next to me, so I called my friend Scott.
" Hello?" Scott answered.

"Scotty, I just woke up, but I had a bit of a rough night last night." I said in a rough voice that sounded like I had just finished gargling with razor blades.

"Really?" Scott was no stranger to this side of my personality and wasn't surprised in the least.
"Yeah." I explained, "I don't feel so good. I can't find my car or my pants, and I think I'm missing a kidney."

My eyes started to come into focus of the daylight and the room around me.
"Ok." He laughed. "I'll come pick you up."

"Perfect" I said. "Just one more thing.."

"Yeah?"

"I don't think this is my house." I whispered. "Let me call you back."

Ok.. It's been a while since my last piece (I've been writing finals). So in order to keep interest in this page I'm going to post an email (with permission) from a fellow world traveller. He was in Thailand on Dec 26 when the Tsunami hit...

Here's his story:

>>>These are the events that I can recall to the best of my knowledge that occurred on Dec. 26th 2004. Boxing Day. I have picked a new name for it: “Tsunami Day”.

The morning started off not too different from any other morning since we’d arrived at Hat Khao Lak, Phangnga province. Hat means beach in Thai and Khao Lak means something like Dependable Mountain. It took us about 12 hours to get there by bus from Bangkok. We found the perfect bungalow, 15 feet from the beach, the very last one at the end of the Garden Beach Resort.

It was 10 am when the noise outside the bungalow was too loud to sleep. There seemed to be more people in front of our place than usual. I figured a large group had settled on the sand and just had a lot to talk about. But there was something else too: the sound of the water was louder and, for lack of a better word, unusual.

I jumped out of bed and looked out the front window. At first I wasn’t sure what I was seeing. The rocks, which were usually only barely visible at low tide, had now grown to the size of a two-story apartment building. The edge of the water was at least 200 metres further out than normal. But since we’d only been there for three days, I wasn’t sure what ‘normal’ really was. But the strangest thing was how the water looked.

I told Chandra to come and look at it, but when she came to the window she couldn’t see because she didn’t have her glasses on. While Chandra went to put her contacts on, I pulled on some shorts, grabbed the camcorder and ran out the door to capture a great video moment. Within just a couple steps I was standing on the beach filming this bizarre scene. There were many people on the beach, all talking about what we were seeing. I took a slow pan shot of most of the shoreline and then I saw a coastguard boat to the right, just behind the now distant water’s edge. What was it doing there? I didn’t have a clue but it made me think that if it was there, then there was no danger.

I zoomed in for a closer look.. My heart instantly sank. What I had thought was the shoreline wasn’t a shoreline at all, but the retreat of the water back into the ocean. I had seen this once before on the Discovery Channel.

It was probably 10:02 am by now, and just as I pulled down the video camera and looked at all the people standing on the beach someone screamed: “Here it comes!”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the water change direction: it was coming at us now.
Like a gunshot, I was at the foot of our bungalow stairs in two giant steps. The water was already by the trees in front of the bungalow. When Chandra came out of the bathroom, the roar of the water was thundering outside. She screamed: “WhatÂ’s happening?” but I had no response. Then suddenly the door of our bungalow opened and two strangers came in. they were probably thinking, like I was, that the bungalow would give us some sort of protection. In the first few seconds of the water rushing against the front of the bungalow I thought we might be safe. None of us said a word and then it hit.

In its fury, the water picked up the bungalow off its stilts. The floor planks sprang up, one by one as the water sprayed our bodies. I screamed for everyone to get on the mattress and at that moment the big one came.

The walls of the room fell apart as if they were made of paper. The once dark room was suddenly filled with light for an instant before it was extinguished again by the immense flood of water. We rose to the ceiling only for a second when the next wave completely destroyed what was left of our most inadequate sanctuary. If any one of us had screamed, we wouldn’t have heard each other through the deafening roar of the water. My hope that the mattress could carry us to safety was shattered in an instant. With no warning or time to take a breath, we all went under, the water churning us around as if we were leaves in the wind.

It was probably 10:03 by now and I can’t remember if I opened my eyes or not. I had no sens of what what was up or down, had no control over what was happening and I couldn’t hold my breath. Someone had once told me that drowning was a painless way to die, that once your lungs filled with water, the pain would cease and unconsciousness would follow.
I could no longer fight the force of nature that was keeping me under the water. My body’s physiological response to the lack of oxygen was becoming too great for me to fight against. But at that moment the ocean released its grip and allowed my body to surface.

The water was deep. I could only see the peaks of rooftops among the dark slurry of sand and mud. The current was strong as it tried to pull us back into the sea, but I managed to grab hold of the ventilation grill of a bungalow which kept me what I considered to be safe, away from the open water which I thought would be more dangerous. At that moment, the current pulled Chandra past me. I yelled for her to grab on to the roof which was near her but it wasn’t over yet: The next wave, mauybe even bigger than the last one crashed over me and under I went. This time my leg caught between rubble and my efforts to break free were useless. Once again, I reached a point where I struggled to hold my breath and this time found myself asking: “Is this it this time? Is this really going to be the end?”

The ocean seemed to reply when suddenly the tide shifted and freed me. Now with my eyes open I swam to the surface. My body was under constant assault from the debris and the current swirled it everywhere, and once again I was let go. But it didn’t last long. The next wave thrashed my body into the floating pieces of what once were the buildings of our resort, and the final blow struck the top of my head. My arms and legs went limp. Still conscious, I let my body float under the water and waited for either the end or for something to change. I raised my head to the surface and it seemed to be over. The surge of water wasn’t so strong anymore and I found myself just floating among the debris. I began to shake as I realized what was happening: the water wanted to return to where it came form. I was being sucked out to the sea. I had no more strength left. All I could do was keep my head above the water. I saw people far ahead of me but I didn’t know if they were alive or dead.

A freezer was floating in the distance but it was too far for me to swim to, but then I noticed a fallen coconut palm tree. It was wedged between two standing trees with debris surrounding it. I submerged myself and found myself in the calm of this natural dam. The palm leaves were within reach so I grabbed hold of one, hoping it would support my weight. Without any strength left, I managed to pull myself on top of the trapped debris and then onto the fallen tree. I hung all for all I could.

Then I heard a voice cry for help. I turned around to see a man trapped in the same current that carried me to the tree. I told him I wasn’t strong enough to move. He grabbed onto the tree but he was too weak to hang on. I could only encourage him to keep trying but he was failing and I was afraid to let him go. I started screaming like a drill sergeant. “You have to try!”, I kept yelling over and over and I slowly got witin arm’s reach of him and pulled him into the safety of my dam. By now it was probably 10:10 am.

It wasn’t long before most of the water returned to the sea. Pools of water were left behind but no visual trace of what was once an area lined with bungalows. I asked the man laying next to me if he was able to walk. He said he was too exhausted and wanted to rest, so I left him.

It was really strange. I had no idea where I was because nothing was recognizable. I could only see a few people. They were heading inland to what I could see was a road. I headed off in their direction. Along the way I met a man who lay against a tree. He was alive but I was in no condition to help him out so I told him he’d be okay and I would tell someone to come back for him. Further up the road a man was helping an old woman. I told him that I would assist her if he could go back to the gentleman by the tree.

My body began to burn. Scratches and salt water don’t mix well. A truck came down the road and picked up the old woman and a few others who were badly injured. Then a group of Thai men and women came up to the truck. I begged them for some footwear and a Thai woman gave me her thongs. I was heading back to the beach to find Chandra.

Another road led to the beach and there were one or two people walking up it but even more people there needed assistance. As I approached them someone called out from the beach that another wave was coming.

My heart sank. My desire to find Chandra was immense but the fear of what I had already gone through paralyzed me. The people in front of me needed my help and that’s as far as I could go.

When the truck was loaded up I hobbled slowly up the service road. By myself now, I stopped beside the rubber trees, staring back to the beach. Confused and in pain I stood there with no idea of what to do. I had a moment with God, but being an atheist it didn’t last long. I found myself cursing a being that I didn’t even believe in. I became numb at that point.

There were many people across the street. One man had a hose and was rinsing himself so I thought I would do the same. I was covered in cuts from head to toe and a flap of skin was hanging from my arm. The man gave me the hose and I started pouring it over my head and body but the sensation of burning flesh felt like I was pouring acid over me. I dropped the hose and sat down among the assembled injured. I sat there and silently screamed.

I’m not sure where I was. A cafe? A scooter rental shop? There were people around with a boy scout first aid kit, but something was better than nothing. They offered me aspirin for the pain but I’m allergic to aspirin. There was no gauze or anything else. I asked if there was a pharmacy but was told it was closed.

A man came in and told us that we all had to move ourselves to safety, behind the building because another wave was coming and this wave seemed to be even bigger than the other ones. We helped the badly injured and then just as we got to the safer place, we were told there were vehicles to take us to higher ground.

The man who had joined me on my dam was there now, and so was the man I had left by the tree. We arrived at the safe point where there were already so many people. As I got to the back of the crowd I screamed Chandra’s name but got no answer. I was guilty of failing to take care of Chandra and to protect her. Tears poured as I lost control again. And then I became aware of the other people who were still alive. I started to triage and treat as many people as I could. I worked my way up and down the hill, even though it had been so long since I had dealt with death or with people who were injured. My textbook knowledge, mock casualty exercises from the military and the years hanging around the hospital emergency rooom seemed to come back to me. By helping others and hearing how people had lost a husband or child managed to mask the real pain I was feeling. We were all suffering together.

I made it to the top of the hill and we didn’t have much for supplies. Many wounds simply couldn’t be dressed. While talking to some other first-aiders, I mentioned there was a pharmacy at the bottom of the hill and suggested sending someone to break in if necessary to get pain relievers and bandages. I wasn’t that serious when I said it, but I guess they thought it was a good idea. So, we got what we needed, plus sterile water and antiseptic solutions and drinking water. Gauze was in very short supply so we started cutting up sarongs and whatever else we could use for dressings.

A woman close to the top of the hill hadna’t been looked at yet so I asked her what injuries she had. She told me and then asked if I was a doctor. I said no, but I was a medic in the Canadian Military. I did what I could for her and that was when a boy, about 12 years old came and told me: “That woman over there wants you to go and see her.” I grabbed my supplies and followed the boy.

Maybe it was the dirt and sand in my eye, or maybe it was because of the painful stories I heard from other people, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t see what I was looking at.
It wasn’t until I was just five feet from her that I realized who she was: Chandra.


=======================================

Prologue:

Dan and Chandra are Back home and fine now.

St Patrick’s

I saw a Leprechaun once…

I was in Dublin, waiting to cross at the traffic lights and a midget on a bicycle rode past me. He was drinking a Guinness as he rode too! I know it’s not a real leprechaun… but it’s close enough…I mean, really, if you saw a midget drinking a Guinness on a bicycle in Dublin, you should be allowed to call him a Leprechaun.

That was in 2002. This was 2005 and I expected to have another good time, so we started kind of early, but the St Patrick celebrations didn’t start until late… we started drinking with the start of the college basketball playoffs (also known as March Madness - 64 teams playing in 32 games.) A sports fans dream. Lots of channel changing and trash talk.

As we watched, I decided to play a little drinking game with the guys:

-choose a number between one and ten
-when a point is scored (by either team) look at the game clock
-if your number appears in the ones column, you must take a drink

along with:

-if anyone's cell phone rings everyone must take a drink

...that guarantees that anytime anyone answers their phone, the background noise is full of the sounds of glasses and people cheering. This makes it easier to invite people....

At about 10:30 all the games were done so we went to FATS (Fifth Avenue-Tenth Street - Kensington) and were joined by a couple of girls. Our waitress, Candace was totally hot for me (or so I wanted to believe). She sat down at our table, ignored everyone else, and told me all about how she really was just waiting tables part time until she could get started doing makeup professionally. I nodded enthusiastically and asked her the perfect question.

“Is that a really competitive field to get into?”

An open ended question like this will give her a chance to tell you what she likes/ doesn’t like about her job. She’ll share as much as she feels like, and if she’s looking for someone to listen to her, and isn’t getting that sort of attention from anyone else, you’ll know.

Once she’s talking, she’ll be happy to tell you about the best/worst parts of her day/work/whatever and you appear sympathetic to her life outside of the bar. If you nod, smile, and say “Really?” a couple of times, you can make some good progress. Just be careful not to ignore other girls at the table.

I did, and the girls that had joined us previously got up and left. They even took one of the other guys at our table with them.

We wrapped up our bill and tried to catch up with them. But it was too late. They had jumped into a cab and left Jay out on the street to find us.

After meeting outside, we decided the night wasn’t over. We walked around the corner to the Yardhouse. An upscale cocktail bar with a gentleman standing at the door. He appeared to be the doorman.

“How are you doing?” I said to him as we started through the door.

“Sorry. There’s no room.” He replied as he looked at the five of us.

“Pardon? The place is half full!” I replied

“We’re not serving anymore.”

For a place that wasn’t serving, the waitresses seemed to be taking a lot of orders. If he was going to refuse us entry, I wasn’t about to make it easy for him.

“Really? It’s only 1 o clock.”

“Let me check with my manager, I’ll see what I can do.” He said to me with a tone that implied he was doing me a favour.

He turned to walk towards the bar. I didn’t wait at the door; I followed him up to the bar and stood beside him while he asked the manager if he should let us in.

The manager, a bald headed man who seemed quite busy pouring drinks looked at the doorman, then at me.

“We’re 5 guys looking to have a pint of beer to finish off our St. Patricks Day.” I said.

The bartender looked back at the doorman and said to him “Why can’t they come in?”

The doorman replied,” but I tho…”

“It’s only 1 O-Clock. We’re not closing for another hour.” The manager interrupted his employee in a tone that told the doorman that he was about to become an ex-doorman.

I decided not to be part of that conversation and said “We’ll just be at that table over there; you guys can sort things out and send a waitress when you’re ready.”

We sat down and Anthony was the first to comment. “That doorman was a dick.”

“I think he’s about to get fired.” I said, and we watched him walk out the door…

I didn’t see a waitress nearby so I headed back to the bar and spoke to another bartender, Chris. I asked him for 4 yards of beer.

That’s right, yards. See, at the Yardhouse, they pour the beers into glasses that are 2 feet tall. To prevent them tipping they come with a large wooden stand. Chris reminded me that these glasses were expensive, about $40 each, and if I break them, I’m buying them.

“No worries, here’s my credit card.” I offered.

As we sat and began our drunken recap of the days events,

we argued over why you could possibly get away with saying ‘nice ass’ to a girl you just met, but if you said it to a waitress, that’s harassment. (see footnote)

I leaned over towards the guys and said “This is the best bar ever!!” and directed their attention to the table next to us.

The two girls at the booth next to us were kissing.

And there we sat. 5 guys watching a couple of good looking girls making out right next to us… we tried not to drop our $40 glasses on the floor and tried not to all stare at the same time.

The bartender, Chris, waved me over to the bar. Apparently he had heard of our incident with the doorman and was on damage control. He offered to buy me a drink. I gladly accepted. Then I offered to buy him one to show my appreciation for his appreciation of our business. Then I think I bought some drinks for the girls in order to show my appreciation for their appreciation of each other in public. Then my internal organs began to shut down in protest. I used my remaining sense to take a cab home.

The next morning, I got up and went to the fridge. I found the last yogurt cup (there were no clean spoons so I grabbed a semi-clean fork)

I scooped it into my mouth, confident that healthy food would make me feel better…

It didn’t. Either the yogurt was bad, or it was reacting with the leftover tequila in my stomach. Regardless, things went bad.

Real bad…

…I wasn’t on solid food till Saturday.

Footnote: It’s harassment in the case of the waitress, because she is required to continue her shift, and return to serve you. Someone you just met is free to leave, or throw a drink in your face.

No Line. No Cover.

That was the rule. We were headed East down the ‘Red Mile’, a section of Calgary’s 17^th Avenue that became popular during the Calgary Flames run to the 2004 Stanley Cup Playoffs.

We started at 14^th street and headed East – here’s how it happened”

First bar: Morgans. No good… there was a lineup..

Second bar: Shaken – A nice martini bar. Classy, not to expensive, a good place to take a date or some close friends. You’d feel a little awkward there without a table. We had some Coronas and talked of one day owning / running our own bars. After the coronas, we moved on to:

Watchmen Pub – A good quality bar/pub. There were 3 seats waiting for us at the bar. We sauntered up to them, sat down and ordered a pitcher of beer.

“Do you want me to run a tab for you?” the bartender asked.

“Nope.” I replied. “Just here for one, then we have to keep moving”

“On a pub crawl?” He asked.

I explained the nature of our plan; we were going to head East, hit every bar on 17^th avenue making out way from the end of the red mile, to the beginning. A total of 16 blocks, and an unknown amount of bars. If there was a lineup, or a cover charge, we wouldn’t bother. Other than that, if they could serve us a drink, we were going in. We’d have one drink, then move on. By the end of the night, we should have some good fun and a bit of adventure.

Classic Jacks – the waitress brought us a pitcher of beer. We invited her to join us on the adventure. She encouraged us to stay, and, as cute as she was, we were on a mission. She would have to join us or be left behind. She decided to keep her job. I offered to swing by at 3am while she was cleaning up to pick her up for some after hours drinks.

“No thanks, I need my sleep.” She rejected my advances.

“Are you sure?” I offered. “Cause by the time you get off work I’ll probably be just outside humping a parked car.”

She laughed as she handed us our bill.

Mercury – In and out in 11 minutes and one double gin and Tonic each.

The Bungalow – 6 dollars for a gin and tonic? Then Anthony bought a drink for himself, another for Justin, and one for a random girl at the bar. His total? No, not a mortgage, only 8 dollars. Apparently if you buy the girl a drink at this bar, your price goes down. If you do that at most clubs, you pay substantially more.

Ming – the martini lounge where I got an even better tasting gin and tonic for only 4 dollars.

Lucky – I ordered a round of Shooters and hit on the girl behind the bar. ‘Amber’ was going back to school in the fall. I assumed she was taking her breasts with her as she proudly thrust them out at us as she spoke. She invited us to drop by for the super bowl party at the night club… Not likely. But she didn’t seem to mind that I spent the entire time staring at her breasts, Neither did I.

We stepped back onto the street and realized that whatever bar we went to next, would probably be where we finished the night. We headed back west to:

Morgans – The Focal point of the Red Mile. Jagermeister shots and we were on our way to the:

Metropolitan – Our last stop. This place is a well known pick-up joint. So I had to play a few hands of pick up. I was drunk enough to talk to anybody without fear.

I approached a couple of girls, and introduced myself.

“Sorry, I’m engaged” one of the girls answered back, waving her ring at me.

“Why are you apologizing?” I asked..

“Because you’re probably hoping to pick me up.” She said.

Well, possibly, I was, but if I wasn’t going to get shot down that quickly. “Oh, you have a ring. I'm sorry. I saw your friends’ first, it’s much bigger.”

“No it’s not! Mine’s bigger!” She exclaimed!

“Or her hands are smaller. Whatever. I’ll leave you two to talk about it.” I said as I re-joined my friends and ordered a couple more beer to stuff into my pockets. At last call those beer came in handy as we sat on the park bench outside and I offered random girls a ride home.

“You’re not actually driving, are you?” One girl asked.

“No, that would be crazy. We’ll take my boat.” I confidently assured her.

“Boat?” She exclaimed.

“Actually, it’s an ocean liner. But I don’t like to brag.” I answered as she walked back to join her friends.

At one point the two girls I had approached earlier walked out. They were having what appeared to be the start of a catfight….

My remaining conversations continued along those lines with the volume increasing a little each time until Rob showed up.

“HEY Everybody!! It’s Rob!! We’re Having After-hours DRINKS at his place!!”

“Dude, I have, like 3 beers in my fridge.” Rob said, not wanting to end up with a house full of random people and nothing to serve them.

“OK People. We can only take one” I announced to another random group of ladies. “I’m sorry, You’ll have to mud-wrestle for it.”

Anthony and Justin reminded me that there were already four of us and still only 3 beers in Rob’s fridge. And that they were on their way towards those beers, and about to leave me behind.

And that’s how the night ended, no ocean liners or mud wrestling.

But it wasn’t for lack of trying…. Next week, I’ll just have to start earlier and pay the cover charge.