This is the reverse view of this photo. Minus the color. DePalmas is a pretty cool place, just wish we could have stayed long enough to taste the food. I love Italian. Instead, Diahn and I had a c0uple of glasses of wine and beer. She had beer, I had wine. We used to drink beer together but now, beer tends to give me a headache and I think wine does the same thing to her.
These days, it's a little more of an effort to stay awake past 11:00pm, but in our day, my friends, we used to drink some beer. And tequila. Or "to-kill-ya", we used to call it.
There are many, many, many, many sad tales that I could repeat here but what would be the point? Those days are gone, and with good reason. Who can survive Bloody Mary's, Screwdrivers and Mimosas on game days at 9:00 in the morning, followed by rowdy football games, beer, more beer, shots of tequila, more shots of tequila, pathetic games of Cricket, nasty hot wings, more beer, more tequila, and then a nice little cry at the end of the bar? All in one day.
Diahn moved around the bar like the geology major that she is, surveying the land, the peaks and valleys, the fissures and the solid ground. Guys loved her. Even stupid guys. Once a guy asked her what her major was and when she sighed, "Geology," with a totally bored look on her face, the idiot said, "Wow. So you, like, study the weather and shit?" I kid you not. I don't think she even cracked a smile. "Yep," she said.
My stories are not so cool. I once was asked my name by a cute, young frat boy and just as I opened my mouth to speak, I hurled all over his feet. To-kill-ya. Bad news, folks. Really bad. Uncool, was I.
These days, we're much more grown-up about our drinking. The kids are tucked into bed, phone calls are made, our bellys are full with good food before we start the party. And the parties these days consist of a few drinks and deep, heart-felt, philosophical conversations. No hurling allowed. And definitely, no frat boys.