Lastnight was karaoke night. Normally I try to maintain control on these nights, just because I actually like the place and don't want to cause a bunch of trouble for us all. Apparently, when drinking on an empty stomach, this simply becomes an impossibility for me. Apparently, this place also doesn't realize that being cut off just means I'm going to get my loyal and arguably irresponsible friends to go get my drinks for me instead. You'd think the bastards would know me better than that by now.
Closing time comes and I get woken up from my nap with the bartender yelling at me. She insists I get out from under her table and get a cab. I have no money, so that's not an option. She also says she's going to follow me to the parking lot and call the cops if I even look twice at my car. I inform her there's no way in hell I'm paying for a cab, but also no way in hell I'm driving. (I may be a shameless drunkard, but I'm at least partly responsible about it!) Talking with another woman that was there, she suggested I just have my friend Joel take me back to his place until I undrunk up in the morning. I shoot the shit with her a bit, make horrible attempts at hitting on her, and she eventually politely informs us that we should leave the premises since they have to close. Yep, totally making drunken passes at the manager of the joint. Night's going GREAT!
Almost immediately after leaving the parking lot in my friend's truck he starts to vomit. So now we're doing 80mph down the freeway while my friend is spraying the steering wheel, seat, floorboard, instrument cluster, and windshield with puke. And they said it was ME that wasn't good to drive. Somehow, we finally get back to his place without dying or murdering anybody. He immediately proceeds to disrobe for no discernable reason, pisses in a plant, and crashes out in the shower with the cold water running. After I took a nap for an hour he was still entirely out of it. I just decided to say screw it and walk the 3 miles back to my car.
This normally would have been a very simple task. However, his apartment complex is one of those types that require badge access to do so much as walk down a flight of stairs. There are little green "EXIT" buttons that are supposed to let you out in case of emergency, but those weren't working. After spending 45 minutes wandering around trying to find an open door, I finally found an exit plan. The parking garage had places overlooking street level, but the doors leading to the garage were all locked. I found one hallway just below someone's balcony overlooking the swimming pool. Over the swimming pool was some sort of wood archway structure type thing, and it butted up against the parking garage. It was perfect, no way could this fail!
So like a drunken ninja, I managed to jump up onto the balcony. Taking another leap I somehow miraculously hit the archway. Another running leap over to the parking garage and I managed to lift myself up. By now I figured I had to be home free. However, since my last visit, they had installed chain link grating over the first two stories of the parking garage. And the exit gate, of course, was also fucked up and not working. Fuck.
At this point I figure if I've already been leaping around like a kung fu action star, I can totally pull another stunt and climb down the garage. I mean Hell, I was practically Jackie Chan back there! While the first two levels had the grating in place, everything else was open air. In addition to that, the side of the garage had a bunch of decorative type work on the corners, so it was only a matter of shimmying over to one of the corners and descending that. There were tons of hand and footholds. I don't think I've even seen a climbing wall that easy. I crawled out over the ledge, started over, and grabbed onto the first handhold. This handhold proceeded to break right off in my hand and I proceeded to realize that I was now two stories up, with precisely nothing holding me up at that moment.
I used to wonder why all those Wile E. Coyote cartoons had that gag where he'd run off a ledge and hover there until he looked down. I swear, that actually happens. I realized I was suddenly dead out of luck, and I even had time to contemplate that Wile E. Coyote thought. And what do I do? I look down because I am an idiot. Needless to say, I start falling. Two stories down I crater into the sidewalk next to some woman walking her dog. From the look on her face I think she damn near shit herself. I didn't even bother moving at that point. It was too much work. Besides, there's no reason you can't have a perfectly good conversation with someone while sprawled out over a nice cool sidewalk with a pitbull sniffing and drooling over you.
"Oh my god! You just fell out of that building! Are you okay?!"
"Yeah. It happens."
"It happens?! I thought you just dropped out of the sky! That doesn't 'just happen!'"
"Well it sure as Hell does today, lady. Okay?"
"Should I call an ambulance or something? I mean... can I do anything?"
"Nah, I'm cool. Unless you got a cigarette, I could totally go for one after that."
"No, I don't smoke. Sorry. Um.... take care."
After she started nervously shuffling away, I got up and tried to walk. Everything was fine, except my left ankle really hurt to put weight on, though it was still at least somewhat functional. Probably a classic sprain. I finally just said screw it and called up another friend to get me and my car. I had done my part for the night, there's no shame in calling in reinforcements when you really need it, right?
"Hey, Veen. What's up?"
"Nick. Buddy. Long story. I got a handle of Sailor Jerry at my place if you and Greg pick me up."
So that was my night. Now I'm considering breaking out the crutches and bandages and totally cheesing free drinks from everyone tonight. Still not sure if that's a good idea or not though.