Pianos, Hurricanes, and a Finger

I received an urgent phone call from Cook early Friday morning explaining that the river trip for Kurt's bachelor party had been cancelled. I was not surprised, it had been raining all day for a week straight and had killed four local Killeen idiots trying to cross a low water crossing that had posted a "do not cross" sign on it. I was disappointed about not getting to make the trek back to Leakey where, a year before, we had all gotten piss drunk and sang "God Bless America" (Under the direction of Lippy). I was relieved when Cook told me that we were trying to figure something else out to do for Kurt. I was glad because I had been planning on leaving work early and was not about to change my plans as far as that aspect was concerned. After long distance deliberations, we decided on San Antonio. The reasoning had been that Everyone has seen all there is to see in D/FW and Austin, Houston is a piece of shit, and we didn't have enough time to put together anything complex. So, by process of elimination, San Antone was the obvious choice.

I met a caravan group in Lampasas and Edgar hopped on board with me and we proceeded to SA. It took a while to find the hotel, mostly because no one has been to San Antonio since they were 8. But eventually we found the La Tropicana nestled in the bosom of the riverwalk and unloaded.

La Tropicana looked like a transplant straight from Miami's South Beach. It was a completely white building with palm trees and ambient samba music over loudspeakers. I felt the need to have a cigarette and did so. The theme at La Tropicana was enough to raise an eyebrow, however, it was not until witnessing the pool complete with tiki bar and toucan aviary that I knew I could score some coke if I had wanted.

We settled in and began to get ready to go out for the evening. We decided Hooters was the best choice for dinner. In my opinion, it was about par with the Waco Hooters...not very impressive. I did chug a bunch of beers and have a decent sandwich with potato salad to begin what would become an evening of debauchery.

After dinner we headed to Pat O'Brien's. If you will recall the Spring Break posts, you will remember how fucked up I got on Hurricanes on my 22nd at New Orleans' Pat O's, and the subsequent torture I had to endure because of it.

For some reason this thought had not crossed my mind. I believe my subconscious had blocked that horrible memory from my mind in an attempt save me any embarrassment from recalling the story and curling up in the fetal position.

The piano players were pretty shitty, but they knew most of the songs we paid them to play. At one point, I wrote on a napkin that it was Kurt's bachelor party and we were getting him shitfaced. I felt the pianist's needed to know. When he got to the napkin with that written on it he called Kurt up on stage. As Kurt got up on stage, he asked him to call up the most attractive guy he had come with to join him on stage. I, of course, was chosen and had to also endure this public humiliation. Already drunk and up on the stage, Kurt and I had to spell out M-O-T-H-E-R with our bodies. It was less than perfect, but good enough for the time being. We exited the stage and I really began to put away Hurricanes. I get real foggy after I got off the stage, but I do remember talking to and older woman, about what I don't know. I might have asked her if she wanted to spoon.

I don't remember leaving Pat O's or how we got back to the hotel, however I do have a flash of memory when I pissed in the elevator (elevator piss count:2) on the way back to the room. I woke up the next morning fully clothed (boots included) and stepped on Ballas head.

I was still REAL drunk when I woke up. We drove to a burger place and I was getting motion sick driving. We arrived at the restaurant and ordered burgers. I sat down with my food and started feeling real sick. I tried to eat my burger, but only felt worse. Someone suggested I go pull the trigger. I sat there and tried to convince myself I didn't need to puke and that it would all pass in a minute...it didn't. I reluctantly went into the restroom and hit a two-point stance ready to release the evil from inside my stomach. I jammed my finger down my throat and waited for the heaving that would soon commence. And sure enough, it came. At first, it was all the water I had been drinking that morning, then the small portion of burger and three french fries made an appearance, and finally a congealed mass consisting of Hurricanes, beer, and Hooters food. I felt relief pass over my poor body and I washed myself thoroughly before returning to the table.

I finished off my burger with no problem and made a good dent in the fries before we left. The relief was not long lived, however. I began to feel bad again when we got back to the hotel and did so the entire day. I was so sick I needed to cop out on the proceeding night of activities. I felt like a pussy, and some agreed with me, but I just could not muster any strength to hit the town.

I will redeem myself soon...very soon.