The Ukraine Succumbs to a Confusing Attack….Because of Me
This past August, on a lovely Thursday summer evening, four young and successful champions of liberty and justice ventured out to a renowned middle-aged pick up bar, named Thursday’s incidentally, for what they only expected to be a casual happy hour outing. Little did our heroes know the perils and drunken futility that lay ahead on this seemingly peaceful but essentially treacherous adventure.
It was Dimsum, The Ukraine and NardStar meeting up at Thursday’s after work. Unlike every other story I’ve posted involving midweek cocktails, I actually had the day off on Friday, which ended up working out to a frighteningly high disadvantage for myself.
We sat around our table, taking full advantage of the 2 for 1 drink specials and talking mindlessly about anything and everything that has little to no significance with everyday life. We were building a pyramid of empty glasses with our finished drinks, which the waitress, wisely, kept coming by and removing before we made a mess of things. She knew before we did of the disaster that was peaking over the horizon. Almost like an Oracle.
It was after 8pm, the drink specials were over but the good times were just beginning. The fateful question “what do you have to do tomorrow,” was swung my way. I had to catch a late afternoon flight with my younger brother to Toronto, then to Winnipeg for my cousins wedding. Even if I got hideously drunk that night, I could still be decent enough the next afternoon. Or so I thought.
NardStar prudently went home and the three of us went to St-Laurent Street to keep partying. The Ukraine knew a bartender at Tokyo Bar and we figured we could use her for free drinks. The only problem was that it wasn’t even 9pm and nothing was open until 10pm. So we settled for king cans on the side of some random street. The Ukraine opted for water. He would pay for his mistake.
After an hour of unparalleled drunken stupidity, which involved climbing light posts and riding locked bicycles while still dressed in our business casual work clothes, unfortunately photographed by Dimsum, we finished our beer and water and stumbled off to Tokyo Bar up the street.
We walked in and it was barren. It was a ghost town. There was nobody anywhere, just confused bouncers and bartenders wondering what the fuck these three idiots were doing at a club so early. The Ukraine spotted his bartender and we promptly started hammering shots with her. Dimsum held off since he was driving later. There is some decency that surrounds my escapades.
Slowly but surely, the place started filling up. I was beyond hammered and all these rapid fire shots and mixed drinks backed by Heinekens’ were taking a toll. People were starting to dance so The Ukraine and Dimsum jumped in on it. I hugged the bar and continued to pulverize my liver with the barkeep. This was unwise.
Across the bar, I spotted what I thought was an attractive girl. I grabbed Dimsum off the dance floor and told him to go hit on her. He looked at her and said no, then went back to dancing. From here, I remember nothing but good thing my buddies did.
About ten minutes after I told Dimsum to pick up the girl, he said he turned around and saw a bunch of Asian guys yelling at me while I was standing there confused. He came over with The Ukraine and pulled me out of there. It turns out the girl I told Dimsum to pursue was the girlfriend of the owner of the club. I had apparently approached her and tried to pimp Dimsum. She was less than pleased and, as it degenerated, her boyfriend liked it even less.
He had us thrown out but not before trying to attack me. He failed miserably. He did however succeed in throwing, what The Ukraine described as “a sort of claw swipe/punch,” which struck The Ukraine on the top of his head, opening a tiny wound which poured blood immediately. There was probably so much blood because of all the booze we’d been swilling for the past 6 hours.
So, Dimsum drove a bloodied Ukraine and piss-fucked me to each of our homes, where I woke up the next afternoon, still dressed and confused. I wish the story ended here.
That afternoon, I fielded confusing texts from The Ukraine as he kept claiming he “took one for me.” Took one what? I had no recollection. He informed me. I laughed, then apologized.
I called my brother and told him to take one of our parents’ cars and pick me up then drive me to my car. He did one better and had a buddy of his pick me up. Feeling rosy, I kept drinking that afternoon with him and we ended up smoking a joint, which obliterated me. I hadn’t packed, I had to pick up my girlfriend from the train station up the street, which seemed like miles away, I was fucked.
It eventually all worked out. I drove painfully slow to get her (she had already started walking towards the house since I shit the bed on meeting her there), the packing I had done was minimal and sloppy as I forgot to pack underwear and dealing with people at the airport was a pain in the ass. We were hit on by cougar stewardesses and I just smiled like an idiot.
From there was a booze filled bonanza where I would pound a beer or mixed drink at any bar or even on the flight to keep from completely crashing. I eventually succumbed on the second flight from Toronto to Winnipeg and passed out hard until my brother shoved me awake. My 24 hour mini-binge had come to an end. There were few victims, only The Ukraine’s head, my dignity and the poor bastards who crossed my path during that unsavory quest.