DV$ 1, Baltimore 1

Yesterday was a trip to Charm City for the unofficial Bachelor Party for RF, who will be getting married in August. This was just a small gathering of friends looking to have a good time in the city that Peter Angelos ruined.

The Fantastic Four on this trip was me, JG, G/T/D (which stands for Greg/Todd/Doug), and RF. JG and RF picked me up at the King Street Metro and we returned to JG's place so that he and RF could finish their recently purchased lunches. While they ate, I played the DVD that was in the player, Playmate something or other.

JG: "You may want to jiggle the cords to get the sound to play."
ME: "Why do I care about the sound? Am I watching this to hear them talk?"

So they ate and I watched and, eventually, G/T/D showed up and we were ready to leave. With bags loaded and everyone strapped in (for funny!), we made our way to Baltimore. Not much in the way of highlights on the road, as it was the usual chit-chat und comedy. Eventually, I nodded off a bit and before I knew it, we're at the motel, a cozy little spot in the travel plaza called the Rodeway Inn. I shan't remark too much about the motel, because for our needs, it was good enough. So there is no need for me to really rip on it. There was a bit of mix up with the room assignment, as the room in which JG and RF would be crashing had no card reader. Once that got situated, we dropped off our thangs, took a few minutes to just stretch and unwind, and then it was back out the door. We snagged a cab in front of the Best Western across the street and took it to Camden Yards, where RF had to pick up some tickets for an O's game. After the purchase, we walked over to see what was happening on the field, as the announcer was doing his thing. As it turns out, there was a Fantasy Baseball Camp going on. I immediately called for the pitcher to throw something high and tight (I think my exact words were "Bean him! He's crowding the plate!"). After a few minutes of mockery, we headed for the inner harbor and our first stop, Pier 4 Kitchen + Bar. We got ourselves a table by one of the open windows, a nice breeze making our time there very comfortable. We had a few appetizers, a few drinks (I had a Honeydew martini and a beer or two) and some pleasant conversation, delving into such important topics as "What are the three things you always look for when you first meet a woman?" and its natural follow-up, "How many women have you dated that had all three things?" (Had in the sense that they were up to your "standards." My answer to that question was zero.) This conversation starter was offered by JG, and I assume was brought about by our particular circumstances, given that the reason for the season was RF's impending nuptials. Or else, he swiped it from his most recent issue of Redbook.

After we settled up, we began walk toward Fells Point. This is where the first bit of deja vu stirred in my head, as memories of the last trip to Baltimore bubbled up to the surface...

Aside: I still cannot believe I didn't blog about that trip. It is relevant to this post only in terms of the subject, as my record versus Baltimore after that night was 0-1. I'll probably jump in the time machine to blog about that special evening soon. If anything, it will be a fun companion piece to this entry.

We walked through Little Italy and got to Fells Point in pretty quick time. Our first stop was inside the bar and grill which was the centerpiece of our last trip, to see if Rose (the delightfully cute bartender) was there. Alas, she was not. Probably a good thing, as anything remotely resembling a duplication of that previous night would have caused me to dry heave. We popped in and out then went to an Irish bar down the street. Here, we played a couple of beers and played a few games of pool. I also played some music on the jukebox, which was surprisingly good considering the location. We left there and walked around a bit, trying to decide where to go next, finally deciding upon a Caribbean themed restaurant on the roof of an Irish Bar. (Names, as you can see, are escaping me. Not really important.) Once again, more drinks, more food, though I only opted for a scoop of ice cream this time, and more people watching. We settle up and make our way back to the street to find the next spot for what is sure to be madcap hijinx. We select Max's on Broadway, which, for those who made the previous trip, is the bar we were leaving when JG randomly smacked me on the back of the neck. This is where the evening started to pick up. In between all of the drinking, this stuff happened:

We encountered the first bachelorette party of the night. By the end of the evening, I counted 11 different bachelorette parties taking place. I'm convinced this was a scam.

One bride-to-be came in wearing a shirt that said "Suck For A Buck" and, of course, was covered with lollipops. First, RF was adamant that I get one. I begged off, but as soon as he was distracted, I got her attention and waved her over and bought RF (he's the man of the hour, after all) a suck.

JG roped in a girl who came to bum a cigarette from him. Very cute girl, very drunk girl. Her first words to me, as introductions were made: "I love your glasses! They're hot." I mention this only because it will come into play later. Also, when she was going around the table guessing the age (I brought this on, after asking hers), she guessed I was 24. See? Drunk! Anyway, most of the conversation was between Very Cute Girl and JG, but occasionally it involved the entire table. For instance, she picked up JG's sunglasses and put them on.

VCG: How do these look on me?
JG: Great.
RF: It looks good.
DV$: I don't like it.
G/T/D: Looks good.
VCG: So that's three who like it and one who doesn't? Why don't you like? The frames are too big, right?
DV$: Yes, the frames are too big. Plus, they hide your beautiful eyes.
VCG: That's such a line!
DV$: I know it sounds like that, but seriously, you have beautiful eyes, and I should know. I'm an optometrist.

So from that point forward, I was an optometrist. Fortunately, it was never really challenged, though she did try to get me to diagnose a problem she was having. I resisted, saying I had too much to drink to be of much help. She persisted a little, I asked her a couple of questions re: eye makeup and we both decided it was probably just allergies. Despite that less-than-glowing assessment, I really am a tremendous liar.

Anyway, once VCG got up to talk to her people, RF, who had left for who knows where, comes back with a girl and sits her down. Hilarious. Her boyfriend also came over with her. Some drunk and forgettable conversation took place. At this point, there was a noticeable lull, so drunk girlfriend and drunk boyfriend dragged RF and me over to the bar and set us up with a couple of Jaegerbombs. Damn it all, that's now a second drink with Jaeger that I enjoyed. My taste in alcohol is getting very odd. But I digress...

It was about this time that we broke out of there after some valiant efforts by both JG and RF to convince VCG and her friends to tag along with us. They declined. So we left, walked about the square a bit, and decided our next stop would be the Greene Turtle. Got a round of drinks, grabbed a spot in the middle of the room, and just took the scene in. RF found another bachelorette party and before I knew it, we were doing shots with them. This particular bride-to-be was doing the bachelorette party scavenger hunt. One of the items on the list was to have her picture taken with five guys at once. So RF grabbed some random dude and we helped her check it off the list. Another item on the list was "have a guy give you a pair of his boxers." RF demanded that one of us give it up for the cause. Nobody stepped up and RF himself claimed to be going commando (one of the super drunk girls in the bachelorette party attempted to verify this). So there was nothing more we could do for them and we parted ways.

An aside: I should state that at this point, I was feeling nice and toasted. When I reach this state, one of the first inhibitions to go is the one involving public dancing. Not that I'm a bad dancer (quite the contrary, IMO, as I've been blessed with an inordinate amount of rhythm for a white guy), but I'm usually not quick to hit a dance floor until I've had a few in me. Anyway, the DJ started playing music to which one could actually dance and before you know it, I'm doing my thing. I offer this only as evidence of my state of drunkenness.

Moments later: After unsuccessfully convincing The Sisters, two blondes that RF found at the end of the bar, to come dance with us (though one of them did finally get up and dance with RF), the evening takes a turn for the worse. JG lines up some shooters for our group and we dutifully down them. Soon after, RF makes a beeline for the bathroom. Uh oh. I give JG a look and he goes in after him. A few minutes later, they both emerge and JG informs us that the evening was over. Honestly, I don't feel like leaving, because once I'm dancing, I get very energized and do not really want to stop. But, we all go outside to find a cab. JG is steadying RF while G/T/D goes out to find a cab and within minutes has one. We steer RF through the streets to get to our cab, load him in the back, and as G/T/D and I are about to climb in, I ask him, "you wanna stay?" So at that point, G/T/D and I decide we're going to stay and try to find some trouble to get into. Our next destination is the Admiral's Cup, where the bachelorette party from the Greene Turtle said they were going. We go inside just as they are leaving. There was one girl in the party--the same one I think who was going to verify RF's commando status--who was just blitzed and a bit too agreeable. Dangerously agreeable. "My husband is way down in Georgia" agreeable. Ahem. She grabs my arm and tells us that we should go with them. So, we're talking and, as it turns out, they have finished everything on the scavenger hunt except for getting the boxer shorts. So I ask, what's in it for me?

The upshot: I got a kiss from one of the twin sisters in the group and was commando for the rest of the night.

G/T/D overheard that the party was going to the Have A Nice Day Cafe, which was going to be our own final destination (if we decided to forgo the strip clubs, which was likely, since it was established that 'tis far more of an accomplishment to see the naked breasts of women who are NOT strippers) until RF took a turn for the worst. So we start to hoof it in that direction, stopping for the most delicious steak burrito I ever did taste in my state of drunken hungriness, when I get a call on the Batphone from JG. He has lost the email address of the girl from Max's. I communicate this with G/T/D, who says he thinks she gave it to RF as well. We walk another block and we decide to go back to Max's, as JG had requested, just in case she was still there. No luck. So we reverse direction and head back toward Have A Nice Day. This was a long, foolish walk and we really should have grabbed a cab. But you know, if we had done that, we only would have arrived earlier and drank more, which would have been very bad. As it was, we got there later, wound up going to Tiki Bob's instead, grabbed a beer and a chair and just took it all in. I could not even finish that beer, as it would have put me over the edge. It was good to just be up on an open air deck and chillin', especially after the long walk. Couldn't argue with the eye candy, even though the super-charged courage from earlier in the evening had abandoned me, leaving me an admirer and nothing more. We finally decide that, since last call had just been announced, we should just grab a cab. One semi-confusing (we had no idea what the address of the motel was, and the phrase "travel plaza" had completely escaped my vocabulary) and overpriced cab ride later, we were back at the hotel, crashing. I had forgotten to pack sleep clothes, so I slept in the clothes I was wearing. I also slept without properly rehydrating myself, since I didn't trust the sketchy sink water in our room and was too lazy to go downstairs and purchase any. So, I just passed out, eventually reaching a deeper sleep than I imagined. While it was only around seven hours of sleep, it felt like so much more. JG, bless him, came by the room and asked if we needed any water or other hydrating beverages, then went downstairs and bought it for us. Like the steak burrito the night before, that was the most refreshing water my previously drunken self had ever tasted. After that, I felt completely replenished. Within an hour, we were all cleaned and ready to roll, though RF still looked beat. We stopped by a Bob Evans in Columbia and crammed food into our pieholes. From there, it was a sleepy ride to the King Street Metro to drop me off. I got home, took another shower. I tells ya, I wish I had packed shorts for today, because that Metro ride and walk back was sweatier than I would have liked. The rest of the day has been mostly relaxing, doing a load of laundry, writing this post, and getting my game on. Now I must mentally prepare myself for the creativity-deadening eight hours that I call "work" tomorrow. Oh well, the weekend was great while it lasted.

I cannot wait to play the rubber match against B'more. I'm pretty confident I'll come out on top. You hear me, Charm City? Your fate is sealed...