As of yesterday, I am officially over halfway to age twenty five. Why people get all upset and agitated over this mini milestone is beyond me. I can’t wait to be twenty five, it’s only five years away from thirty! Ten years away from forty. Life is just flying by, I’m practically fifty. I will say this, yesterday was definitely a half birthday to remember. I just wish I could. Unfortunately, I started time traveling around noon and before I knew it I was already back at work this morning, one day closer to twenty five. And feeling the pain of old age.
The fun started yesterday with a two hour lunch at Joes, a great seafood place by our work, not to be confused with Joes Crab Shack as I previously thought. I don’t pretend to forget where I came from. Anyway, three bottles of wine later my boss, a few coworkers and myself stepped out of the restaurant and couldn’t believe it was still daylight, let alone 2:30 p.m. It only felt right to walk across the street to the Conrad hotel for a few after-lunch drinks. Nobody wants to ruin a good buzz on a Wednesday afternoon. So we had some more drinks. A lot more.
So now things start to get fuzzy. Chris texts to see how work is going. I respond with “just hanging at a random hotel.” For some reason I think this to be a perfectly normal response, naturally, Chris doesn’t. “What, with who?” Again, I come back with something even better, “my boss.” Just to clarify, I was with three other girls and my boss, and we were drinking in the hotel bar. Looking back though, I can probably understand why Chris was a little confused/weired out. Pretty sure it’s around this time when I post my status as “happy ½ bday. Happy being drunk To me.” Well said, drunk self, well said. After the Conrad it’s still not dark outside, gotta keep going. So now we head to 437, a pretty nice steakhouse, a place probably not suitable for afternoon hammered people. We go in anyway, they’ve got an amazing meat and cheese platter we’re all jonesing for. I don’t remember getting stares or glares from the grey hairs eating their 4:30 p.m. steak dinners, but I can only imagine we had to have gotten a few as our booze tornado blew through the door and threw ourselves into a booth. We dived into the bread basket like we hadn't eaten in years, we were knee deep in oil and vinegar and fancy butters. After a few “flaming turkey asshole shots,” as I was calling them, things got real dark. I decided it was time to go home, it had been a long night. This was around 5:45 I’m told… I time traveled home, changed into the biggest sweat pants I could find, a very fancy peacoat, and finished the ensemble with some rain boots, of course. Then I ran, literally ran, the three blocks to the dog park to meet Chris and Har. I must have looked like quite the Sandusky sprinting through the intersection of Wrightwood and Lincoln.
What can you do, half birthdays only come around once a year. This was one of my better ones. Last year on my half bday, while dressed as a chef serving greasy teenagers in Peker, had someone told me that by next year I’d be daytime bar hopping in downtown Chicago I would have said oh hells. Life is funny. And getting older isn't that bad, then again nothing is when you have a drink in hand at 12:00 p.m. in the afternoon.
