Saturday Night Drama-Eraser
Sometimes, life throws you a bone.
Saturday, as you may have read here, I was feeling very low after a particularly brutal day. The hubby is in Hong Kong, working on an emergency project to save his job, so I came home to an empty house (other than multiple angry felines who were upset over their dinner being late). I made myself a cocktail (which I never do at home) and was trying to relax, when it hit me. What the heck was I doing sitting at home alone, drinking? That is the sure route to crazy-cat-lady-land. None of my friends were available, but I wasn't going to sit there and act like I was an incipient alcoholic. So I decided, to heck with it, I am going to the Eagle.
Now, the Eagle and I have an unhappy relationship. I always have fun there when I am with a friend, as with the ongoing freakshow there how could you not? Going there on your own, however, can be a very ugly thing. People are there either in groups of friends or as solitary predators, moving through the crowd looking for their next meal. I always seem to be found by someone who thinks I am a wounded antelope on the plains of the Serengeti, just waiting for the lion's bite; or I am a wallflower, the plain girl at the dance who nobody notices lurking by the bleachers. The Eagle, however, is one of the few places I can go out in the city and not feel as old as dirt, so off I went.
You know it has been a while since you have been to a bar when you notice a forty-story building a block away from it that wasn't there the last time you went. But that's another story.
Saturday night the bar gods took mercy on me. I started thinking of it as "The Ghosts of Christmas Past" - one by one they all filed in, and I saw SO many people I hadn't seen in ages, people I never, ever run into (and certainly not at the Eagle). People were passing me their contact information, and one or two of them got a bit friendlier than may have been appropriate. I was reminded that there was a lot of good in my past that I hadn't let myself think about in a while, and these people brought me back to it. It was great.
Unfortunately, being out drinking until the bar closed and then stumbling home at an indecent hour of the morning really didn't agree with me too well. I spent the day on Sunday napping most of the afternoon (when cats weren't fighting on top of me).
So, here's a big thank you to the Bar Gods, for helping me forget the ugliness of the present for an evening by reminding me of the happier times in the past!
Saturday, as you may have read here, I was feeling very low after a particularly brutal day. The hubby is in Hong Kong, working on an emergency project to save his job, so I came home to an empty house (other than multiple angry felines who were upset over their dinner being late). I made myself a cocktail (which I never do at home) and was trying to relax, when it hit me. What the heck was I doing sitting at home alone, drinking? That is the sure route to crazy-cat-lady-land. None of my friends were available, but I wasn't going to sit there and act like I was an incipient alcoholic. So I decided, to heck with it, I am going to the Eagle.
Now, the Eagle and I have an unhappy relationship. I always have fun there when I am with a friend, as with the ongoing freakshow there how could you not? Going there on your own, however, can be a very ugly thing. People are there either in groups of friends or as solitary predators, moving through the crowd looking for their next meal. I always seem to be found by someone who thinks I am a wounded antelope on the plains of the Serengeti, just waiting for the lion's bite; or I am a wallflower, the plain girl at the dance who nobody notices lurking by the bleachers. The Eagle, however, is one of the few places I can go out in the city and not feel as old as dirt, so off I went.
You know it has been a while since you have been to a bar when you notice a forty-story building a block away from it that wasn't there the last time you went. But that's another story.
Saturday night the bar gods took mercy on me. I started thinking of it as "The Ghosts of Christmas Past" - one by one they all filed in, and I saw SO many people I hadn't seen in ages, people I never, ever run into (and certainly not at the Eagle). People were passing me their contact information, and one or two of them got a bit friendlier than may have been appropriate. I was reminded that there was a lot of good in my past that I hadn't let myself think about in a while, and these people brought me back to it. It was great.
Unfortunately, being out drinking until the bar closed and then stumbling home at an indecent hour of the morning really didn't agree with me too well. I spent the day on Sunday napping most of the afternoon (when cats weren't fighting on top of me).
So, here's a big thank you to the Bar Gods, for helping me forget the ugliness of the present for an evening by reminding me of the happier times in the past!