The Saturday Night Send-Off Or Is That a Big Painting Of JFK Over There?!

Sometime around 10 PM we finished watching guys beat the hell out of each other UFC style and realized we had to be downtown very quickly.  One of the ex-classmates of my compadres Joker and Dave was moving back home to Philly and as these things go, a drink-a-thon had been drug up.

Almost no one I know uses their cars anymore, living in Los Angeles teaches you quickly to dread being behind the wheel, especially on the weekends.  Tourists and swaying drunken club goers make the streets feel like crowded hamster tunnels and the parking situation is enough to drive even a sane man into a drooling rage.  So, like so many other evenings, we shuffled underground to the train and headed from my quiet home in NoHo  into the heart of the Hollywood beast.  My buddy Dave and I quickly grabbed a walking drink; This is a critical accessory, especially if you have no idea where you’re going, how far will be required to walk, or to what level the over-inflated beer prices will be inflicted upon you when you head to a strange bar.  A walking drink insures that your walk, however far it might be will at least be a little more tolerable.

There werent any images of the wall of portraits, so the sign will have to do.

There weren't any images of the wall of portraits, so the sign will have to do.

After some cab shuffling, getting lost, and general street wandering we found our way to Molly Malone’s, the location for our buddy Mike’s send off.  A typical “Irish” bar, which in Southern California usually just means some green text on the sign out front, a couple large Harp and Guiness mirrors,  and a few dozen painted portraits of Irish Americans drinking, smoking, and generally giving the Irish genetics  a good name.  I often sit and wonder who you would go to commission 50 or so painted portaits of random famous Irish-Americans, is there a shop for this?  Some crazy painter who’s obsessed with his geneology and just ran wild?  Maybe you can order mass paintings of other ethnic origins.

“Hello can I order 60 paintings of famous Ethiopian-Americans?”  – Maybe it really is just that easy.

So we drank, and people did the usual post-school/Industry bullshit talk, lot’s of “what are you doing now”‘s, and commiserating over the lack of work at our level of experience.  You learn to just pre-load responses to these common conversation starters in the frontal half of your brain and given a decent level of drunkedness, you just fire them off at random and you can fool nearly anyone into believeing you are actually listening and interacting with them.

It’s sad to see people move away, but after having sent off half of the people I went to school with, you just sort of become numb to it.  There’s lots of hugging and promises of eventual returns, but the truth of it is, other than an occasional Facebook application extorting you into interacting with these people, you’ll probably never see them again.

Afterwards, things collapsed into the usual beer pong, swilling, and smoking at someone’s home until 3:30 in the morning.  People sitting around on the floor, on each other’s laps, it’s all very new century Hippy silliness.  Personally, I would have been good with fleeing early, I like to get in, do my business, and find a dark, comfortable spot to collapse into, but I understand the need for people wanting to drag out the goodbye as long as possible.  Such is the way of things.

Now it’s Sunday morning, my head is slowly simmering down and no longer angry with me.  There was some mutterings about the beach, but I think that I’m just going to relax awhile.

Yes indeed, relax.

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