Very probably my last time in Duluth before I leave.
My plan was to stay Wednesday night in Duluth, as a farewell to the town I loved so dearly for so long. But, as so often happens with me, it turned into excess.
I was talking to my brother (who lives in Duluth) and asked him if he'd be able to go out with us on Weds. He said that he had class and work, and that he wouldn't be able to (besides, he's not 21, but he's got a good fake). So I decided to head down Tuesday night after work to spend some quality time with him.
Day One:
I rolled into town at about 10:00 pm. I called his cell phone, and he was at his friend's house watching the T-Wolves game, so I headed straight there. I had a beer, because he was already quite a few ahead of me, and then we went to the Reef (or, as I referred to it earlier, the MOTHAFUCKIN Reef.) He had his ID, but not his papers, so the Bouncer wouldn't let him in. We drove back to his house, got his papers, and showed that bouncer what's what! He studied and studied the ID and papers, but could not find a flaw. We were in.
Seconds after entering the bar, our thouroughly inebriated cousin Dustin (who also lives in Duluth) found us. We didn't know he was there, and in fact he was giving Adam shit about not ever returning his calls and what not. Anyway, we went to the back and played a few games a pool. I called The Pete, and he was returning home from watching the T-Wolves, so he turned back and met us at the Reef. Adam and I, by this time, had already finished a pitcher of the nectar that is Killians, our first of many of the night. Our pool table was taken over by some people, and because I wasn't really into playing and Dustin was far to drunk to continue, we headed to the front of the bar to listen to some karaoke. So, now it's Pete, Adam and I in the front. We lost Dustin a few paces back, but he was there with his other friends, so I'm gonna assume that he made it out okay. We met Adam's (actually, our other cousin Tina's friend who knows Adam) John up front. He was a pretty cool guy and, as it turns out, a marvelous singer. He sang a song very well (can't remember which one) after which Adam and I convinced him to sing Black with us. He didn't know all the words, and neither did Adam, but Pete and I did, being huge Pearl Jam fans. The problem is that Pete didn't want to hold a mic, so I was the only person who knew the words AND was holding a mic. I'm not a great singer, but I think we pulled it off pretty well, because when I was singing the painful, soulful "ooooooooooooooooooooooh, yeah" half the people in the bar "yeah"ed with me. So it was either in appreciation of the song, in appreciation of my spirited performance, or to drown us out.
After that, some guy that I saw in the bathroom was singing The Asshole Song, which Pete and I listened to on repeat about a jilion times Freshman year. So, we stood up by our table (which was right at the front) and sang loudly and danced badly. After that, it was our turn to sing "Ice, Ice Baby." Pete declined to take part in this one, so it was up to Adam and I with the occasional accompanyment of John to do justice to the classic Vanilla Ice "song". After we were done and sat back down, Pete said "Man, I thought you guys KNEW the words." Fuck you, Pete.
Apparently my performance inspired an older yet not unnattractive woman, who sat down at our table. She kept kissing my cheek and whispering stuff about the NorShor, and she was pretty drunk. The older guy who was trying to hit on her kept giving Adam and I money, and I came to realization that morning that he was trying to get us to go buy beers so he could get laid. Hey, buddy, you sat at OUR table, it's not our fault your lady prefers our company to yours.
So, bar closing time, and I'm good to drive home. Get in the car, drive home perfectly fine. Adam immediately went to bed, as he had a Student Senate meeting at 12:00. I sat down and wrote the woefully pathetic article that you may or may not have read. "YOU DROVE HOME WHEN YOU WERE THAT DRUNK" you should say, but I have defense. When I left the bar, I was completely fine. When I got to Adam's parking lot, I was still fine. However, when I sat down on his couch and listened to the news, I was NOT okay. I went from sober to drrrrrrrrrrunk in about 15 minutes...I guess last call caught up with me.
A vague recollection of the night: Me getting off the couch and deciding that it would be far easier to walk down Adam's step and pee out his front door instead of moving 10 feet and going into the bathroom. Yes, I had to pass the bathroom on the way to the stairs. Really doesn't make sense, does it?
Tomorrow: Day two. It's too late to do my story justice.