Big Gulps of Beer
I made plans to meet up with some people at 75th St Brewery at 7:30, last night, so I left the house at about 6:50, to catch the 7 o'clock bus. As I took my customary diagonal shortcut across Barney Allis Plaza to get to the bus stop at 13th and Wyandotte, I noticed that the Marriott had changed its flashing light decor to a parade of moving and swirling hearts, in various shades of red, white and pink. I actually gave the hotel the finger, from two hundred yards away.

As I walked down the long staircase from the plaza to the corner where the bus stop is located, I saw my bus, three minutes early, pulling away. I waited around for about twenty minutes for a bland #57 bus to roll up, with "Plaza/Waldo" flashing on its electronic destination marquee. I was going to Waldo, and though I knew that the 57 would drop me off a couple blocks farther away from the brewery than the bus I missed would have, I was already twenty minutes delayed, so I hopped aboard.

As the bus crept through the traffic, I saw that the Venereal Day crowd was thick on the Plaza, which makes sense, since it's already a destination, anyway. I also noticed the massive face of Lance Armstrong looking seriously at me from the American Century towers, across the Brush Creek Valley. Just a little creepy, if you ask me.

Then, the bus turned north, which was bad. I was going south for an additional thirty blocks, so I spoke up.

"Isn't this bus going to Waldo?"

"No. Plaza-only."

"The sign on the side of the bus says Waldo."

"Plaza-only."

"You need to fix your sign," I said, as I jumped off the bus and jaywalked angrily in its path.

According to the electronic display at the bus stop, the next bus to Waldo, on the ATA's vaunted "MAX" route, would come in another half hour, meaning I had just missed it, again. It was turning into a bad night. I finally just said, "to Hell with it!" and shelled out $15 for a slow cab that was playing music videos of Celine Dion songs.

I walked in the door, and found that Eric was waiting at a small table near the door, and Jeff was sitting basically right next to him, though they didn't know each other. I made the introductions, and I got right to drinking cartoon-style quantities of beer from my Bavarian mug. After about four of these, a startlingly pretty girl, named Neka, came over and started talking with us. Unfortunately, she was really really boring, and, I suppose, was trying to get us to entertain her.

We had been having a conversation, a very nice conversation, that got derailed because pretty-eyes joined us and degenerated the discussion into "where are you from," and "what was your major," kind of questions. Apparently bored with us not really taking much of an interest in her beyond politeness, she found some fratties up at the bar to buy her drinks and pretend she's interesting. We resumed our nice time.

After perhaps one or two more of these giant beers, I said goodnight, and headed back to the bus station at 74th and Broadway, to find that at that late hour, the MAX only goes as far as 18th street, and I'd have to walk the remaining mile and a half, or so. But that was fine with me, as I was drunk and it was really pleasant outside, after a 65-degree day.

cjnnnc interjected:
You can be so harsh sometimes, John - I'm sure the boring girl wasn't that bad! Also, I agree the Lance face thing is creepy... yeah, definetly creepy...

4:18 PM, Feb 17, 2006

bahua commented:
Maybe I was a bit harsh, but it's only because she acted very superior. She was sure to tell us that she was from New York, and that she's not at all impressed with our little city. I'm not interested in kissing ass just to make conversation, and she did just fine at going away.

10:37 AM, Feb 18, 2006

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