Back to our regularly scheduled programming...

Okay! I am back for another night of BLOGGING. I am taking this shit seriously now, folks. No more week-off deals for me! After posting a 3,000 word (approximate figure) recap of three nights last week, I give you another new megapost, back-to-back. Because I love you all. Except you. Yes, you. You know what you did. Continuing from last night's entertainment, we move on to the big, fun Friday! Same format, same fun, count how many times I say awesome...

Friday: I was supposed to only stay at work until 11am and then my week was over. Anyone who has been reading for the past few weeks knows that's not how things go down when it comes to monstrous job stuff that is finally getting finished up. Especially if I'm not the one doing the stuff for it. The short of it? I fixed a problem, people at the plant did not bother to accept my fixes until it was too late and I have 68,000 copies of a book with an error in them that makes it look like I don't know what I'm doing. And all I got was a pittance as a credit for it. But that is work stuff. All that needs to be known is I had to stay a lot later at work than I was planning on to get everything done.

On tap for the night was a birthday celebration for my good friend Melis, down in Orlando. Festivities started at 8pm, but standing between me and that time was a trip down I-95 with Daytona 500 traffic in my way. All I can say is thank god for a fully charged iPod. I made it down to the hotel in Orlando by around 8:30, but discovered that Orlando's downtown roads are pretty stupid. Here is how I envision the city planners' conversation went...

City Planner #1: Hey, you think it's a good idea to put 15 one-way streets in a row, all going the same direction?
City Planner #2: You mean, so if somebody has to go, say, south, they have to drive for about a mile before they can actually hit a street that doesn't run north only?
City Planner #1: Dude, that's exactly what I'm thinking.
City Planner #2: Let's really have some fun with them and make it so that once they turn, they have to go another 15 blocks until they get a street heading east so they totally can't get back to where they were.
City Planner #1: You're an evil genius. Let's have babies together.
City Planner #2: Totally. They can plan Jacksonville.

So, at 9pm I roll back to the hotel I drove right past 30 minutes earlier. Get my car parked, get cleaned up and finally walk down to the Waitiki bar, our first stop for the evening. Turns out I'm one of the first ones there. Predictable. At least M is there already. I think two of her friends had made it by then. I was told her parents were going to stop by to with a happy birthday and then head out. I was earlier than her parents getting to the bar. Let me repeat that part: I was earlier than her parents getting to the bar. Luckily, that didn't matter since the night proceeded to get awesomer and awesomer as time went on. And that's not just the alcohol talking.

First of all, I apparently charmed the hell out of M's parents that night without even realizing it. Here I thought her dad hated me and wanted to beat me with a crowbar or something as soon as I stepped outside. I think I even remember saying that to somebody shortly after he left. He really did scare me because I don't think I ever saw him smile, even when I was breaking out some extra-funny material. Yet later on it turns out he told her I was awesome. This proves that my observational and people-reading skills are still 100% on-point. Obviously. I will take this time to tell you that I'm available next time you want to get a read on someone. Give me a call, my rates are cheap. Hint to the guys: shake a dad's hand when you meet him and when he leaves. That's about all I remember doing, so that is obviously the key to not getting beat with a crowbar by somebody's dad who may or may not hate you.

Anyway, at this point people started to show up one-by-one until we had a full cast of about 20 strong. I finally got to meet a stealth blog reader or two, even (comment already, people -- this means you, Corbie). I also hung out with Donna, who I randomly met on Six Degrees of Separation in Jacksonville night, and whom I really need to hang out with more often. Now if I could just move my house closer to the beach, I think that could happen.

At this point it was shot time. Hooray for shots! Always the hallmark of an evening where nobody better be driving. The evidence is to the left, and I'm honestly not that drunk at that point, considering we hadn't left for The Lodge yet. That came at around 11:30 and a whole lot of me attempting to be funny and charming to an entirely new audience and pretty much succeeding, by all accounts. Life is good. I will take this time to note that M is holding her shotglass, not flashing gang signs. Honest.

We head over to The Lodge, only about a block away. Who do I pass by on the way there? The girl vaguely referenced with a baseball analogy way back in this post. Who still has my umbrella. Though I was probably buzzed enough to say, "hey, you owe me an umbrella..." I was luckily cohesive enough to realize that was a bad idea. So she got the "sup" head nod, which she returned and we both went on our merry ways, with all her friends giving me dirty looks. It's not like I bugged her about the umbrella, ladies. Maybe they read the blog about me wondering if I could pick up her roommate instead? Oh well.

Before heading into The Lodge, I get stopped by some dude I vaguely recognize who immediately starts asking me "if Maki is living back in Orlando!!!" It takes me a sec to figure out that he's my high school best friend's youngest brother. Once I realize that I shoot the shit for a few minutes, letting him know I'm not back in town but consider it on nights that go as well as that one was going. He heads off and I wander into the bar next door to The Lodge, not realizing that I'm not in The Lodge until I discover that nobody I know is in there and I know like 20 people in my group. At this point I'm glad I didn't wander into a gay bar or something and head back outside.

Once I squeeze my way out, I run into the quarterback from my high school football team. He calls me "Mako" (close, but no cigar) and I find out he's working for EA Sports on the Madden video games. Pretty cool. It just proves that apparently everyone sticks around Orlando, though. One of the reasons I avoid moving back. (More on that later, though.) I ask him if I'm in the right place for The Lodge and he points me to the door.

I finally make my way into The Lodge. Now let me say a bit about The Lodge. I love The Lodge. You know I love it because I keep capitalizing the "T" in "The Lodge." Now, The Lodge is a place that only plays one type of music. Hair metal. Nothing but '80s hair metal. And none of it at any less than 3,000 decibels. RATT. Quiet Riot. Old Bon Jovi. David Lee Roth era Van Halen. Poison. The Crüe. You name a godawful hair metal band from the '80s and I guarantee you that it's on the DJ's Powerbook. Needless to say, after a few shots and some Red Bull & Vodkas I am totally warmed up for dancing with a group of girls to '80s hair metal in a place like this. Anyway, as soon as I walk in the door M immediately jumps me, wondering where the hell I've been. I've been socializing, of course. I know everyone in this town, seriously! Even if they don't remember my name exactly! We then proceed to drink a lot more beer and thrash around to stupid-ass music. As I'm getting my "I've lost count'th" Yuengling, I turn around and right there is this girl.

Holy crap.

Me, feeling no pain at this point, immediately says, "Heeeeey! I know you!" To which she responds, "heeeeeeey! I know you too!" I say, "you're [name omitted because I'm not that dumb]" to which she responds, "I used to be!" And then she pulls the, "I don't remember your name but we went to high school together and did all the peer counseling courses together and all that stuff, right?" card. But she knew my name. She can't pull that one over on me, considering I'm the king of "I remember you, what's your name again?" Y'know how George Costanza owned "It's not you, it's me"? That's how I am with "I remember you, what's your name again." I'm a little ticked that she even attempted to use that one on me so I give her a hug, tell her it was nice seeing her again and head back to dancing with the hot girls in my group. Not turning around for a second, of course. Because I am awesome. And yes, you guys were right, it was all better left in the past.

Inevitably, last call arrives, the lights come on and it's time for us all to head back to the hotel.
But first, a stop at the Pita Pit calls. Imagine a healthy little pita place built into the side of a building a block away from the bar. Imagine everybody that just got kicked out of the bars because it's 2am is hungry. Imagine if they all went to the exact same place. Now you know what it's like to be at the Pita Pit on a Friday night. After 30 minutes of waiting we all march our way to the hotel, triumphant with our chicken caesar pitas and whatnot. It's at that point I decide that if I ever move back to Orlando, two things are going to have to happen. 1) My parents have to move out of town. I love 'em, but I don't think I can ever handle living in the same city with them again. It's best for all of us. 2) I would have to buy a condo downtown, within walking distance of all the bars. Considering real estate prices in downtown Orlando, I don't see the second one happening unless old Grandpa Lotto gives me a nice Christmas present this year. Which is doubtful.

The five of us make it back to the hotel, with me carrying M caveman style part of the way (not comfortable for either party, FYI). We hang out talking for a couple hours before finally going to sleep after M gets up from the couch, walks out of the room and hops into bed without saying a word to any of us. We figured that was as good a sign as we were going to get.

All told? One of the best nights out in ages. Not a single argument with anyone, not a single disagreement. Completely drama-free. Nobody threw up on the sidewalk outside the bar or once we got back to the hotel, either. And we only woke up with very slight hangovers. Only one thing could have made that night better, but considering the accommodations in the hotel, well, that would have been fairly awkward in the morning. But you know it's a good night when that doesn't even matter.

All of that and I didn't even have to use my AK. I think I've typed enough. Time for bed...

PS: First person to point out how many new year's missions I failed in one night gets smacked upside the head next time I see you. I ain't even joking, sucka.