There seems to be a point in every person’s life when he or she begins to slow down on the partying side of things. And when the partying does ensue, it’s much tamer than the days of the wild youthfulness.
As I approach 30, I definitely am not the same partier as I used to be. It takes longer to recover, and sometimes I’d rather just chill at home and be a hermit.
Having said that, I do not spend much time with people of that ilk, and this weekend was a prime example. In the span of less than 24 hours, I traveled from Philadelphia to New York to Baltimore and proceeded to drink my face off in a whirlwind of a weekend. Oh yeah, I also happened to take in game two of the Phillies-Orioles series at Camden Yards as well.
The insanity began Friday morning, as I boarded a 7 a.m. train to New York City for work purposes. My arrival in Gotham was kicked off with a few police jacking up a lowlife who had either stolen or attempted to steal a woman’s purse. It was a pretty rough scene, with the cops quite literally manhandling the uncooperative perpetrator, sending change and personal belongings flying. Welcome to New York.
My day proceeded with some work dealings and concluded with meeting up at separate times and places with two of my sisters, both of whom happen to call NYC home nowadays. Oh, and I also happened to notice this some time in between.
Living la vida loca indeed.
I had approximately four-and-a-half hours to kill before hopping on a 10:05 train to Baltimore for what would be one hell of a trip, so I figured a little time with my siblings would be a good way to entertain myself.
After grabbing a few with my older sis and then chowing down some grub and more libations with my younger sister and her boyfriend, I still had approximately two more hours to kill. So I bellied up to the bar and continued to quench my thirst while simultaneously dehydrating myself on a sweltering day. That’s where I met the most friendly, yet most stereotypically obnoxious, Yankees fan ever.
Clearly, he was in his regular spot, talking nonsense to the bartender and saying all sorts of foul things. At first, with his terrible lisp and somewhat aggressive attitude, I thought he’d be a nastier human being. Plus, he was incredibly drunk. Instead, he started making conversation with me as we watched the Yankees game, asking where I was from, introducing himself as Bob and shooting the shit. Nothing like a random barstool to turn total strangers into the best of friends … at least for a couple hours.
As boarding time approached, I bid farewell to Bob and hopped on the regional rail bound for Baltimore, belly full of food and beer. Next stop, Baltimore, ETD 12:38 a.m.
Now, before I settled all my plans for travel, I was slightly worried about exactly how I’d meet up with my buddies down in Baltimore. You see, two of my friends, who just so happen to be brothers, live in Charm City. Both are from the Philadelphia area, with one of them recently moving to the Federal Hill section of Baltimore from quite literally a few blocks away from my house in Philadelphia. As such, the most recent Baltimore resident bought a bunch of tickets for the entire Phillies-Orioles series in anticipation of a raucous weekend. I knew he and some of our other friends were attending Friday night’s game and then heading out on the town. Somehow, with a bag in tow and a sweated-through suit as my attire, I had to find them.
As luck would have it, one of the brothers works at a bar two blocks away from Baltimore’s Penn Station, and the whole crew headed there after the game. So after a surprisingly quick train ride ended — aided by catching a few z’s no doubt — I met up with the crew at the bar and started back up with the drinking.
The party continued when we returned to my buddy’s place, as the beers flowed and the liquor came out to play. Next thing you know, there’s a relative stranger who had been sleeping outside on the sidewalk puking his guts out in the bathroom and passing out on the couch. And this wasn’t even the big bash.