I had to make do in Alaska this year. I missed The Hempsteadys, the P-Funk of Street Punk, blowing the doors off the place, and all of the weirdness that I would have conceived of. Instead I was here, Bored. Cold. Without a mob to be idiotic with sans repercussions. After work I sat around, ate a grinder, a 20 inch monster grinder which was delicious, and watched TV. I wanted to go out to the bar that we went to last week. It seems divey and cool, like the bars I like at home. It took all of my effort to get 3 other people to go with me. Literally half of the team was apathetic to having fun.
Fuck that and fuck them. I wanted to have a good time on my own, so I gathered what amounted to a crew (?) of people and we went out. It wasn't fun.
One of the people I took with me, as it turns out, is a terrible drunk. I like to have a good time, to dance, to do shots as a group, to enjoy the experience. Other people don't have the same outlook on drinking that I do. Other people don't appreciate the power and majesty of alcohol the same way I do. And that sucks sometime.
Random, offhanded incidents will set certain people off. So when I'm walking to the car, with the DD ready to bring the three drinkers home, and I get hit with a second story cigarette bomb, the bad drunks get mad. I didn't get mad, but another in my crew did. So I had to settle down a situation.
Did I want to settle down a situation? NO! Fuck no! I wanted to go back to the shitty motel and get some sleep for the next 4 days of bullshit I have to deal with before I go home. I don't ever want to have to deal with bad drunks, but when that's all you have, you deal. You cool your own heels and take it slow, maybe not do that next shot, maybe nurse this beer. I chose the slow path, and it worked. I was able to dissuade my coworker from beating the shit out of an old, scrawny drunkard, and get us back to the motel in safety.
At least I got home. We all got home. Safe. That's the most important thing. No one will have a warrant out on them in Alaska tomorrow.
What I miss is what happened at home tonight. I am sure that I am going to hear all about it this week coming up, and I am sure that I will yearn for some Hempsteady madness until, I don't know, New Years? or something like that.
The silver lining is, as I write these words, I can still listen to them, and imagine what I missed. What I saw tonight is a different story. There was a dude dressed as Chef from South Park. He was white, and in blackface. It was not okay. There was a fat chick dressed as I Dream of Genie. There was a dude who's costume was to get slapped in the face. It was not good.
It was not Oasis Halloween. At least there's next year. Right?
SD
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