Thursday, October 22, 2009

Back to Key West Part 3 (The Michael Jackson Incident) 

Seems I have a new reader to the site. Mike g left a comment saying "More poker - less alcoholism!". Well hell son, this space has never been about that much poker, read the tag line. I'm a drunk with a poker problem. Even if I'm talking about poker I most likely am trying to run a casino out of free booze. We now return you to our previous alcoholic story already in progress.


Key West - Day 3
September 2009

I managed to get myself in bed nice and early Saturday night. I was forced to ignore the near constant messages from Nikki to get my ass down to the bar because she was bored. That's a dangerous combination for me, bored Nikki generally means I will get myself into all kinds of trouble. For some messed up reason I stayed true and avoided the bar. That night I managed to find the light switch and crash in relative darkness, something special for me.

There was no hiding out on Sunday though, it was the last day/night in town for the Gainesville Posse, we needed to get off our collective asses and turn in a fine drinking effort. There was no time to waste staring at the inside of my eyelids.

First order of business was "morning" mangia and we ended noshing on a nice little brunch that consisted of some fine bacon but also a public bathroom that involved (redacted) and (redacted) plus (redacted) that left Mrs. Spaceman rather out of sorts. I was disappointed I couldn't take them to my favorite spot called Panini Panini (Roast Beef, Muenster, Portobello, Green onion and Horseradish Sauce). Closed for the fall.

Afterwards the couples headed off for some island sightseeing while the 5th wheel, that would be me, made a beeline straight for the bar. It was Sunday afternoon and there were football games that weren't going to watch themselves. Many beers later (Yuengling Lager thank you very much) the boys showed up for their turn in front of the TVs. There is only so much hammock shopping any one man can take before surrendering to the call of booze and the NFL. Luckily for everyone involved I stayed away from the short shots and stuck mainly to beer flavored water.

The girls wanted to see the sunset.

I can't say I blame them, it's a nice way to kick off a night of drinking or continue a day of drinking. In all the times I've been on the island I've seen the sun come up a lot more then it going down. Priorities and all. They beat me to Sunset Pier to squat us a nice spot near the rail for the festivities. I arrived just in time to chug a few rum-soaked cocktails with the gang and the show was on. As captured via iPhone.

Pablo, Gracie, Jason and Rachel prepare for the sunset with tasty beverages

Still trying to figure out why I ever leave this place


Prepare to be boarded, aaarrrr

Isn't that all nice and pretty? It's never easy to pull yourself away from the the pier when it starts like this and everyone is getting nicely lubricated. SpaceRach was jamming along with the talent as they played some funk R&B, we ate ourselves full of fresh seafood, Gracie was documenting it all via her iPhone technologies. But nothing lasts forever, no sense spending their last night in town at one place. Spontaneous pub crawling.

At Reloaded, drinks and shots.

At Irish Kevin's, drinks and shots and some pretty damned entertaining music. The SpaceFolk's first foray into one of the biggest bars on the island. We found ourselves a nice comfy spot at the end of the bar to keep the beers flowing and a good place to watch the crowd. There might have been some sing-a-longs here and there. Jason made friends with the Tennessee native on guitar and after we each dumped a fin in the tip bucket had our own private song request time.

At Teasers, the upscale strip club. No shots or beers. Or lapdances for that matter. We once again walked past the place of legend, the establishment that has taken more of my money than all the poker players combined and even a few well positioned girls of the past.

At Cowboy Bill's, we hit our pace. It was getting close to some mysterious time where I would magically jump forward another year in age. Even Madame Spaceman decided to knock back some shots. Why did no one ever tell me they have a vodka now that tastes exactly like Sweet Tea? I think Mrs. Spaceman's new favorite shot has gone from Soco Lime to chilled Sweet Tea vodka. There was a decent shot she would have finished off a bottle on her own if we hadn't left the bar.

Then Gracie, Pablo and Jason were also lifting shots once the clock ran past midnight along with just about everyone else at the bar. I like to conjugate my drinking. I drink, you drink, he drinks, she drinks, we all drink. Cheers. I soon found the past participle version of the word, "drunk".

"I'll do another shot with you IF we can go get pizza when we're done here" proclaimed Mrs. Spaceman. That would be a great way to end of the evening. Everyone would make it back to their haunted room in decent shape with a belly full of mostly edible pizza. But every good drinking night has a moment when things make that turn from ordinary to silly.

I am willing to spend a lot of my well earned money to keep The Spaceman from posting a certain video.

You see it was like this. The best pizza place open was further up Duval St away from our house. It was right next to one of the popular gay night clubs. I was wearing a shirt that said "Free Range Cock". I was drunk and Michael Jackson was coming out of the speakers. There might have been some dancing and Moon Walking. Did I mention I was drunk?

"No, my Blackberry doesn't take video. I'm just taking a picture" is how the Spaceman bluffed me on the river. I believed him and there now exists a video that I pray never makes it out on the webs. I make a living out of embarrassing myself and this one I knocked out of the park.

Yet another in a long string of birthdays that I'll never forget thanks to friends and their willingness to join me on insanity driven quests.