Part Two

Yeehaw, Saturday night! I expected it to be a dud. Red was refusing to go out because she didn't want to put any effort into beautifying. Christina had to work the next day. I still felt more than a little under the weather. However, Christina's college roommate was planning to stop by for a drink or two, as was my former neighbor Tuna, so the two of us had no choice but to go out, at least for a little bit. But wow, were our asses dragging.

As a direct result of my putting forth the least amount of effort to look good, I was the first one out. Before allowing my ass to enjoy the comfort of an inviting barstool in the hotel bar, I had to make a stop at my car to change my shoes. It always seems like a good idea on my weekends away to convert my trunk into a travelling closet, but let me tell you, it sucks when I actually have to go out there to change anything.

On the way back into the hotel, I ran into Tuna, who had just arrived. Perfect timing! We greeted our favorite bartender, who by now knows what to bring us without even asking, and seated ourselves at the bar. Almost immediately, an older man (older, but really no more than a 4 on the creepy scale) walked over and asked if I'd been at Majors the night before. We chatted for a bit and he offered me a ride to Majors that night. I believe his exact words were, "I'll throw you in the back." Uhh...I had to respectfully decline, but I told him I'd catch up with him later for a beer.

Finally, after I'd nearly given up all hope that my weekend roommates would ever join us in the bar and I'd resigned myself to the fact that it was me and Tuna against the world that night, Christina walked in looking HOT. Her adorable friend Molly showed up very soon afterwards and we were all having fun, but I don't know...something was definitely missing. Just as Tuna and I were exiting the bar to go to room 263 and drag that missing something back with us, she came walking in. Our group was complete, and it was time for our night to begin.

The hotel bar, though busier than I'd ever seen it before, was kind of dull. A big group of sexy hunting type men checked in while we were sipping our beers and Christina wrote them a napkin note asking them to meet us at Majors, which she had the bartender deliver to them as we were leaving. Let me just save you the suspense. We never saw the hunters again. Bastards. But seriously, we were over them as soon as we ran into this guy outside:

He had sexy hair and an accent sure to melt any drunken Midwestern gal's heart. I laughed until I cried when, before we all hopped into the Tuna-mobile, Red exclaimed, "I need to get a picture of you with these hot girls, so I can post it on the internet!" No opposition there.

As soon as we entered Majors, most of us quickly noticed Mel Gibson sitting at the end of the bar. He was brooding and intimidating and cocky, but none of that mattered when Christina decided we all needed to get to know him. Somehow, I was the one elected drunk enough to make it happen. I did a couple of laps around the bar, one with Red and one with Tuna, under the pretense of trying to find that drunk from the hotel, which by the way we never did. Men lie.

Before long, it seemed the beer couldn't be poured fast enough to keep up with my mouth. I was on a mission, a mission I knew would not be accomplished until my BAC was at least triple the legal driving limit. Just as I was feeling brave enough to make my move, some dirty whore with bad hair plastered herself all over my target. At that point, I basically gave up. Besides, these nice boys had just seated them at our table, and I figured what the hell, maybe we don't need Mel Gibson after all.They were fun and I was a big fan of the hair on what's his name. Do you know why he has hair like that? Because he's not a very good fighter. It's a good look. More guys should be shitty fighters.

All of a sudden, I felt Christina hit me and start shrieking, "here he comes, here he comes!" I looked up to see Mr. Beautiful, bitchless, sauntering by us, oblivious to the fact that we've been staring at him almost from the moment he arrived. Honestly, I could have slept soundly that night knowing I let him pass us by, but I'm pretty sure Christina would have ripped my face off and eaten it had I done so. Therefore, drunk but still mildly frightened by the knowledge that he's far, far out of my league, I reached out to tap him on the arm as he passed by and actually heard myself say out loud, "Excuse me, but I was hoping to have my picture taken with the hottest guy in the bar."

Silence...

He stared at me for a second and then slowly looked around the bar and says, "Okay, where is he?"

Durrrrrr. I must have managed to tell him it was him because I remember him thanking me profusely and repeatedly asking if we can hang out, like, all the time.This is the picture that resulted. We talked for a few minutes, or he talked and I squealed in drunken delight, or he talked and I stared at him stupidly, unable to shut that huge gaping hole on my face. Whatever. He totally rubbed my back while we talked, and that's all that counts. As I thanked him and he walked away, Christina kept exclaiming, "I'm so jealous!"

Moment over. We turned our attention back to the nice boys sitting at our table, until somebody noticed that
the object of our collective affection had put on his jacket and was making his way towards the exit. We grabbed him for a hug on the way out (REALLY drunk by this point, obviously) and somehow convinced him to stay and party with us. The jacket came off, kids, and we got more pictures of the hottest guy at the bar than we ever bargained for.
Obviously it was ecstasy just being in his presence. He kept telling me that he felt like nothing more than piece of meat which, duh, he was. We just met you in a bar. We know nothing more about you than how chiseled your jaw is and how buff your arms are. I'm typically not into metrosexual dudes with rock hard abs who spend more time tanning than I spend sleeping, but it was fun for a minute or two.

At one point, the bitch he was talking to earlier, wandered over, onto our turf and started hitting on the man who we had stolen away, fair and square. I guess she likes rejection. Finally, when she called me a bimbo and Jay (turns out his name isn't really Mel Gibson...who knew?) replied, "that's not fair," she admitted defeat and left. We win, we win!

This is Jay's friend and roommate, Silent Todd.He was sort of the molester type and was very infatuated with Christina's boobs. Then again, who isn't? Silent Todd repeatedly invited us over to their house for some hot tub fun, but we resisted temptation (I actually didn't feel even remotely tempted) because that's bad...but apparently inviting them back to the hotel with us was not bad. They accepted.

The walk back to the hotel was fun, of course, but not as exciting as the night before, mostly because Red didn't get tackled or lose any of her valuables. I think the dudes were expecting the party to continue, but we girls were tired. We hadn't made it to bed until 5am after a whole bunch of partying the night before and we knew we had to be up early to head back to Duluth. Still, that didn't stop Christina from offering me up for body shots after the fifth time Jay asked if we had any beer lying around.

I might never look at Malibu the same way again.

Shortly after all the body shot excitement, our night ended. After only a few hours of sleep, and after I found most of the contents of Jay's wallet lying on the floor next to the bed a couple hours after he left, our cities weekend ended as well.

The road to recovery was long but now, almost thirty hours after arriving home in Duluth, I finally feel decent. I won't be able to do this again for a long, long time, but I think Red put it best when she said, "this weekend was worth three phones." T'was a whole lot of fun with the girls I love most.