One Tequila… on the floor

Sometimes it’s just easier to keep going than to slow down. It’s been a whirlwind of a month, fun & colors flying by. Every once in a while I take a moment from my ridiculously busy work day to reflect upon the previous evening, sooth the headache, and find myself uncontrollably laughing at some silly memory.

This morning has been full of laughter and Advil.

Yes, I have been out every night this week. So last night I brought the dog to work for two reasons: 1.) It’s hot. 2.) If I have my dog with me, I can’t go to the bars and will therefore go home at a reasonable hour and get a long, full, sober night of sleep.

Wrong.

Julie and I ended up working late. Around 8, I said, “How about one glass of wine to wind down? It’s gorgeous out, and I need something to calm my nerves.” I’ve never known Julie to turn down a drink.

We set off seeking outdoor accommodations where Tequila could join us. With waits from 50 minutes to an hour and a half near the waterfront, we decided to head back towards the office and into the city… where our favorite bar has empty outdoor tables. And we sat, ordered the wine.

Being regulars, the manager came out to hang for a few. He loved Tequila (but then again, who doesn’t?) She was super-cute & well behaved, so we decided to stay for dinner. Pizza and one more glass of wine later, we decided to order a last drink. No sooner had we toasted to another fun week than the skies opened up and rain came pouring down. We were stuck. With Tequila with us, we couldn’t go inside. But with fresh drinks in hand, we couldn’t possibly leave.

We found ourselves dry, huddled under the awning above the entrance way. The owner came out, looked at us, and laughed. “What the hell are you guys doing out here?”

“Well, we can’t come in.”

“Why? ‘Cause of your seeing eye dog? I don’t care. Bring her in.”

In we went.

So there was me, Julie & Tequila, hanging out in the bar.

And of course, everyone wanted to buy the girls with the dog a drink… so we stayed until closing. I have the best dog ever. All she did all night was sleep under my stool, and come cuddle with whomever would come over to give her some lovin’ and us some drinks. The entire staff hung out with us. We even got fancy snowcone drinks that take 5 whole minutes to make.

But, of course, no T runs that late, so I ran found myself in the second challenging situation of the evening: How do you get a golden retriever home at 2:30 in the morning?! No cab in their right mind would take us. (Not that I blame them — have you seen how much she sheds?!)

I was running out of options. In the back of my panicked mind I figured I could sleep in the office and take the first T home, drop the dog off, and shower. Yes, that would suck, but I can’t walk home this late at night. It takes two hours. And it’s not safe.

“Julie, what time does the T open?”

But Julie was falling asleep on her feet. So I befriended the old creepy Italian bellman. After winning him over with my girlish charm, I casually made my case: “I have the best dog here ever, she’s so quiet and well-behaved. But she’s big, and no cab will take us.”

“I have a friend who drives a cab,” he said, and I knew I was in.

While waiting for his friend to arrive, a drunk man stopped beside me and said, “Where I am from, we call zees a labrahdor.”

I can recognize that accent anywhere. “Mais oui! Et elle est française, donc elle s'est souvent appelée un Labrador.” And then we spoke French.

Of all things, he was a deckhand on some wealthy man’s private yacht. It made me miss Tony.

Anyways — the cab arrived. But his last fare puked all over the seat. Tequila and I had to make a decision: take a huge risk and not get in the stinky van, or accept that the only cab willing to take us will smell of vomit. So we rode home in with the stink of puke in our nostrils, grateful somebody would take us.


I only saw Alex briefly this morning. He says, “Really, Catherine? Out to 3:30 with the dog? C’mon now.”

And that’s why tonight, I’m going to bed by 9.