Sailing on a Sushi Boat Across an Ocean of Booze

I can’t think of many things that have gotten me so excited, and then let me down as frequently, as the Cherry Blossom street party. Except for the year that Morris Day and the Time rocked the streets, I’ve been disappointed almost every year. This year it was cancelled because of the rain all day leading up to it. I say screw the stage and the logistics, block the street off, do a BYOB and hand out trash bags for raincoats. The downtown police presence is typically prolific enough to handle a small riot anyhow, so no big deal; Right?
I really shouldn’t complain. There are plenty of other people to do that and I have a knack for fueling my disappointment with alcohol and cigarettes until it transforms into something a little more positive. I’m going to have a drink and forget about it. Had I known earlier in the week that the street party would be cancelled, I would have started this self healing process sooner. I played it safe and prepared to anyhow.
Monday. Ugh, seriously. I woke up still drunk on Tuesday. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? Monday is the new Friday? Is it possible I’m not the pillar of sobriety I thought I was? Gulp. What? Shut up!
Joe Tuff got back from a stint over at the oceanless beach on Wednesday. I had been to softball practice that evening and was almost feeling like a healthy, active adult when we cracked the first of what would be a dozen beers. It was already after 2am and three hours later I was setting my alarm. I still managed to get up at seven. I’m getting better at this, the positive attitude thing at least, maybe not so much for the sobriety thing.
Thursday we hit Shogun which must be Japanese for “kick ass sushi served on a massive wooden boat” because twenty minutes after we got there and started flipping through the picture book for kids who can’t decipher sushi menu’s, that’s exactly what showed up on the table. It all disappeared pretty quickly, washed down with a few UFO’s and jokes about the boat being big enough for Gary Coleman to actually use.
Downtown at the rook they were doing some drink specials and playing some eighties music. It worked for me. As long as I don’t have to hear that stupid “apple bottom jeans, boots wit the furrrr” song another fucking time, I’m good. A few overpriced dollar shots later and we hit the bird for last call. Not to be discouraged my Macon’s puritanical alcohol laws, we stocked up on car bombs and masons jars of booze. I even closed an old bar tab. Yay me. Three down, one to go. I ended up playing beer pong until the sun came up and the next thing I know I was waking up in an office chair a few hours later. NuWay for breakfast seemed like a good idea around ten but it still didn’t sober me up and it was all I could smell for the next couple hours. I got some cherry ice cream down at the terminal station and went home to rest up for the first Friday shenanigans.
Under the impression that I was super human and that a shower would be the phone booth for my transformation, I left the house early to wander the streets. Vintage Treasure just opened on Cotton and after browsing through their awesome t-shirt selection it was time to eat…and drink…again. My front tooth is still loose from getting smashed in the mouth during rugby practice a few weeks ago. That means burgers with a fork and knife. It’s a royal pain in the nuts but unless I want to start looking like a Jones county native, I’m going to have to be careful until it heals up. I guess I could make a joke here about sticking to a liquid diet but that would be too easy. By the time I finished my food an a few beers all I wanted was another nap. It was around eleven when I walked up to the power station again to have Janaun Bon jovi rock my face off with eighties cover hits. It was their last show and I don’t think I’ve even seen the power station so packed. Back at the bird before last call, I think this was the only night of the week that I went out and didn’t get closed out of the bar after 2am. It gives me something to shoot for though.