In what can best be described as a very dark haze I reverted to my college days and made a scene. A makeout session. Drunk. In a bar. With a stranger. An old stranger. An old, smelly foreign stranger. With friends (aka co-workers) present. On the way to make a phone call. It lasted a long time.
Not actual photo of the offense in actionThese are the nights made for blackmail.
Flash forward to Wednesday.
I was at my apartment, waiting for my roommate Molly (remember her from the Fireman story?) to call. My apartment keys were stolen along with the other contents of my bag - including blackberry, wallet and the entire series of The Chronicles of Narnia - so Molly and I developed a key sharing program while we waited for my new set to be made.
I got a call from a number I didn't recognize. Now, under normal circumstances I do NOT pick up calls from unknown numbers - but this time, as the phone rang and rang, I thought if this is Molly, I should really answer. I already make her share her keys with me. Maybe she's drunk and is calling me from a friend's phone. So I answered.
"Hi 'Cheese' How are you doing tonight?" a thick accent bubbled through the phone.
Shit. I gave him my number. Details of the previous Friday slip back into memory.
"Yeah. What's up?" I figured if I was a little rude he would realize it was a mistake to call and he'd cut the conversation short. I was wrong again.
"Ooo," really high pitched followed by a bizarre bird-like coo. "So are you still in New York or are you in Phillydelphia?"
At this point I wasn't sure if I lied and told him I live in Philly or something was lost in translation when I said I am from the city of brotherly love.
"Oh. Um, I'm in New York." I held my breath.
Another weird coo - followed quickly by a squeal.
"That is wonderful! How long with you be here?"
I should hang up.
"A while..." the last time I played this much with words was when I was trying to figure out how to talk to a convict who was asking me out.
"Delightful. So when can we go for a drink? Hee hee hoo mmmmm."
Never. And stop making those sounds.
He continued, "Friday?"
"I'm sorry my family is in town."
"They're in town all weekend." It wasn't even technically a lie. My mom and relatives were visiting till Saturday and my brothers live in New York. So technically, family is always in town.
"Oh, no. They are in town all weekend."
"Maybe Monday will work."
"Great so where? What time?"
"Oh." Ugh. "Well, why don't you call me later and we'll make plans." AKA hang up so I can save you in my phone as Guy from Town Tavern and never answer another call from you.
"OK so call you Sunday? To make plans for Monday? And decide time and place?"
"So what are you doing now?"
"Hanging out with my roommate."
"OK so I should call you later this week to make plans for Monday."
"Yes. That's right. Talk to you then."
This is my life. This is my punishment for drinking. God isn't going to wait to send me to Hell for overindulgence. He's going to give me Hell right here on Earth. Immediate penance.
On Thursday at 10:40...in the morning... I received the following text message:
I want that blue eyes and an "Irish kiss"
It was just the beginning.