You know, I wish I could say this was a weird night, but with Gimpy there...
Thursday, a few friends and I decide, hey, let's hit the bar. We've got a place we like to go to, and it seemed like a good night for a pint or two and a pound of wings. So we plan to go out for 7, since some people have work the next day, and it wasn't supposed to turn into an event. Generally things wrap up around 10. They didn't, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
I decide I'm showing up about ten minutes late, as most people do, and five minute before my planned arrival, I get a call. One friend showed up there, lets call him Gimpy, at 7 sharp. He then got himself a pint, slammed it back, and then called me up demanding why nobody was there yet. By the time I got there, not even 7:15, he was 3 drinks in, and nobody had yet arrived. So he steps outside for a smoke and we shoot the shit waiting for other people to show up. 10 minutes or so of stories later, and another friend, lets call him Nitz, comes waltzing up, and we head back into the bar. Turns out yet another friend had finally shown while we were outside, and had just sat down. As per the trend, we'll call him Cal. So, Cal, Nitz and I start in on the pints and pounds and Gimpy orders yet another drink. It remains pretty normal at this point. A handful of other people show up, totaling around 10 at one point, and dwindling to 8 before we leave, but eventually we figure we've squeezed all the entertainment out of the bar we wanted and decided to hit up the nicer one down the street for a fancy drink to finish the night. This is around 10:30, and so, we settle up, and head down there.
Now, most of us have nursed three or four drinks over the past 3 hours. I'd had three pints, and, being scrawny as hell, and not a terribly frequent drinker, I was feeling pretty good, but I wasn't about to be turned away anywhere. Much the same for everyone else, though, most of them probably even better off than myself. Gimpy, however, Gimpy had about 8 or 9 in the same span, and he's smaller than me. We get to the door and the bouncer, who we find out is named Garret, asks for I.D all around and we start pulling out our cards. Most pull their drivers licence, but Gimpy and I pull out what's known as a BYID. Long story short, it's government issued ID that you can get with an application from the LCBO in canada, so long as you get a signature from someone in standing in the community (Police officer, minister, etc) that's known you for three or more years. Essentially, it's a Booze Yes ID.
Gimpy is declined.
Now, he's a little upset, understandably, as am I. I went to some trouble to get this, and shelled out 60 or 80 bucks to boot. It's perfect legal ID. You can buy smokes, lotto tickets and liquor with it. In fact, it's sold mainly so you CAN buy your alcohol. Hence why the LCBO supplies it. However, it's policy of that bar to decline it. Not the point of the story though. Gimpy starts asking to see Garret's manager, and Garret tells him the guy's super busy, as well as a terrifyingly huge greek guy with a short fuse for bullshit. Gimpy insists, and insists, and eventually Garret just tells him he's also not getting in because he's tanked. And Gimpy's okay with that, and tells everyone to go on in, because, well, don't leave on his account. There's some mumbling and half-assed consideration until I tell everyone to go in, and I'll watch over Gimpy while he's here. Everyone heads on in, short of Cal who heads on home, having work at some ungodly early hour in the morning.
So, for the next hour and a half, Gimpy, Garret and I, just... Shoot the shit, we end up in all sorts of conversations about pretty much everything, and chat up a few people that came out of the bar to smoke. Watch Garret turn away a few people way more tanked than either of us, and see a few groups go in. Now, the bar is one with a bit of a dress code, so, you've gotta look at least clean, and about an hour into the conversation Gimpy goes one telling Garret about how he dressed up in a suit the first time he was there. Garret busts out laughing and thinks that's awesome, saying if he saw Gimpy show up in a suit when he was working, he'd let us in and buy us a drink, proper ID or no. So, we're now attempting to get as many people as possible to show up on the 6th in full suits. Tie optional.
Around midnight, one of the groups of smoker's comes back out again, (couple of older girls who were friends of the bar singer) and see that we're still out there talking to Garret. Turns out they're regulars, and they demand that I come in for a drink with them. I end up nursing a few drinks over the next two hours while chatting it up with them, finding out they're there nearly every Thursday, and making friends with another guy and the bar singer.
Around 2, well after I'd lost track of time, Garret comes in, telling me I'd better get my friend and head out, because they were closing up. So, I settle, tell the girls I'd be looking for 'em on Thursdays from now on, and head outside to drag his drunk ass home.
Now that's a night of drinking.
I decide I'm showing up about ten minutes late, as most people do, and five minute before my planned arrival, I get a call. One friend showed up there, lets call him Gimpy, at 7 sharp. He then got himself a pint, slammed it back, and then called me up demanding why nobody was there yet. By the time I got there, not even 7:15, he was 3 drinks in, and nobody had yet arrived. So he steps outside for a smoke and we shoot the shit waiting for other people to show up. 10 minutes or so of stories later, and another friend, lets call him Nitz, comes waltzing up, and we head back into the bar. Turns out yet another friend had finally shown while we were outside, and had just sat down. As per the trend, we'll call him Cal. So, Cal, Nitz and I start in on the pints and pounds and Gimpy orders yet another drink. It remains pretty normal at this point. A handful of other people show up, totaling around 10 at one point, and dwindling to 8 before we leave, but eventually we figure we've squeezed all the entertainment out of the bar we wanted and decided to hit up the nicer one down the street for a fancy drink to finish the night. This is around 10:30, and so, we settle up, and head down there.
Now, most of us have nursed three or four drinks over the past 3 hours. I'd had three pints, and, being scrawny as hell, and not a terribly frequent drinker, I was feeling pretty good, but I wasn't about to be turned away anywhere. Much the same for everyone else, though, most of them probably even better off than myself. Gimpy, however, Gimpy had about 8 or 9 in the same span, and he's smaller than me. We get to the door and the bouncer, who we find out is named Garret, asks for I.D all around and we start pulling out our cards. Most pull their drivers licence, but Gimpy and I pull out what's known as a BYID. Long story short, it's government issued ID that you can get with an application from the LCBO in canada, so long as you get a signature from someone in standing in the community (Police officer, minister, etc) that's known you for three or more years. Essentially, it's a Booze Yes ID.
Gimpy is declined.
Now, he's a little upset, understandably, as am I. I went to some trouble to get this, and shelled out 60 or 80 bucks to boot. It's perfect legal ID. You can buy smokes, lotto tickets and liquor with it. In fact, it's sold mainly so you CAN buy your alcohol. Hence why the LCBO supplies it. However, it's policy of that bar to decline it. Not the point of the story though. Gimpy starts asking to see Garret's manager, and Garret tells him the guy's super busy, as well as a terrifyingly huge greek guy with a short fuse for bullshit. Gimpy insists, and insists, and eventually Garret just tells him he's also not getting in because he's tanked. And Gimpy's okay with that, and tells everyone to go on in, because, well, don't leave on his account. There's some mumbling and half-assed consideration until I tell everyone to go in, and I'll watch over Gimpy while he's here. Everyone heads on in, short of Cal who heads on home, having work at some ungodly early hour in the morning.
So, for the next hour and a half, Gimpy, Garret and I, just... Shoot the shit, we end up in all sorts of conversations about pretty much everything, and chat up a few people that came out of the bar to smoke. Watch Garret turn away a few people way more tanked than either of us, and see a few groups go in. Now, the bar is one with a bit of a dress code, so, you've gotta look at least clean, and about an hour into the conversation Gimpy goes one telling Garret about how he dressed up in a suit the first time he was there. Garret busts out laughing and thinks that's awesome, saying if he saw Gimpy show up in a suit when he was working, he'd let us in and buy us a drink, proper ID or no. So, we're now attempting to get as many people as possible to show up on the 6th in full suits. Tie optional.
Around midnight, one of the groups of smoker's comes back out again, (couple of older girls who were friends of the bar singer) and see that we're still out there talking to Garret. Turns out they're regulars, and they demand that I come in for a drink with them. I end up nursing a few drinks over the next two hours while chatting it up with them, finding out they're there nearly every Thursday, and making friends with another guy and the bar singer.
Around 2, well after I'd lost track of time, Garret comes in, telling me I'd better get my friend and head out, because they were closing up. So, I settle, tell the girls I'd be looking for 'em on Thursdays from now on, and head outside to drag his drunk ass home.
Now that's a night of drinking.