Vodka Party

Trev: Fucking loaded!!

I glance at the clock. 2 PM. I type back

Me: Wake and drink?

Trev: LOL. Basically. Got off work at noon. Went to Applebee's and got a few cocktails.

Me: If you're loaded, it's more than a few.

Trev: Way more. I think I've spent about $40. All vodka. Vox on the rocks!

Me: You're off to a fast start. I have a few things to finish up here, and I'll meet you later.

Trev: Cool. Call me.

I have my doubts that Trev is going to finish the race.

I pull open the oddly heavy door around 4. Randy and Trev are at the bar. Taking my rightful spot, Faith sets down a beer and a shot. I nod thanks.

"Wassup, "Trev was already slurring his words.

I glance at Randy who's shallowly shaking his head and laughing to himself. Booger sugar, or Trev is in rare form. I can't tell yet.

"Not much," I said. "Looks like you got away with a false start. I have to catch up."

"Good luck, "Randy says.

"It's a vodka party, fellas." Trev gestures to Faith who's furtively searching the door for signs of Kevin. Mildly amusing, but Randy looked dangerously close to spitting his brew across the bar. Booger sugar.

Faith sets down Trev's order of Vox on the rocks. Splash of lemon juice. I could never figure out why he bothered.

"You know what?" Trev started. "I'm sick of all of this fucking bullshit about gay fucking marriages and shit." Trev is in rare form. "Seriously, is this really a fucking issue? The fuck do I care who marries who? Stop talking to me about that shit already!"

Randy and I nod in vague agreement. I down my shooter and gulp my beer. Faith slides down another shot. "On me," she says. "Thanks, " I said.

"I have to agree," I said. "I'm sick of hearing about it. The argument against it is bullshit for certain. It's ruins the sanctity of marriage? You've got fucking 'Who Wants To Marry a Millionaire,' 'The Bachelor,' 'The Bachelorette,' and who the fuck knows what else. I think the sanctity of marriage was ruined long ago."

"Marriage is a reality based TV show, and the Christians don't want to let the gays play," Trev laughed. "Outstanding. I gotta take a squirt."

Randy waits for Trev to leave and then says," Trev isn't going to make it all night."

"He's has before." I said.

"Bet ya a beer."

"Deal." We shake. I announce that I have to take a leak.

I push through the doors. The sound of retch accosts me at the door. Trev is giving up his cookies. The sound almost makes me gag.

While I'm pissing, Trev emerges from one of the stalls. "You got any of those Listerine strips on you? You always have those things." It's true. I'm sorta obsessive about my breath.

"Yeah, but right now I have my dick in my hand, if you wanna just cool out for a second." I begin to wonder whether Randy's beer is empty.

I finish up, wash my hands, and fish a Listerine strip out of my pocket and hand it to Trev, he mutters his thanks.

We belly up to the bar where Randy is waiting. I order him a beer and set it in front of him. He laughs. "Trev, did you give up your cookies?"

"Yep." Then he motioned to Faith. "Vox on the rocks." Stunning. Shocking. Randy and I were both speechless. I wasn't sure I heard him correctly.

"Did you just order another drink," I asked.

"Fuck yeah. Who the fuck do you think I am?" Trev sneered laughingly.

"I can think of three words that have some relevance here,"Randy says, "Acute alcohol poisoning."

"Ahhh, I didn't know you cared," says Trev. "You got your high heels on too, bitch?" We laughed.

The next few hours were a maelstrom of drunken conversation and marveling at Trev's hostility toward his liver. Then, I looked in the mirror at Trev. He lifted his glass, opened his mouth to take a drink, tipped his glass and poured. The only problem was that his mouth and the glass were a good 10 inches apart and he poured his drink onto the bar. He looked around nonchalantly. Grabbed a couple of napkins and began wiping up his mess. I picked up my cell phone and called Samantha.

"Why's he so goddamned pissed at himself?" She asked. I laughed.

"No idea. He's been at this since noon."

"Do you have his keys?" She asked.

"Not yet, but I'll get them."

"Okay, I'll be down there to pick you guys up in about 30 minutes," she said. "You sound like you're going to be hungover in the morning yourself."

"No doubt." I hang up. I tell Randy about the plans to get Trev's keys. He laughs and retrieves the keys from his pocket. I grab them and let him know Sam is on her way. He nods.

"You guys about ready to head out," Trev asks.

"Yeah, just a sec," I said, "I need to close out my tab." Postponing the inevitable blowout about his keys.

Finally, Sam walks through the doors. I turn to Trev and say, "Let's be out."

"Cool," he says. And then to Randy, "I'll drop you."

Randy laughs and says, "You're not driving me anywhere. Sam is going to drop me off."

"Fuck that. I can get you home. I'm not that drunk." Trev says.

"You can't be fucking serious," Sam chimes in. For some reason, this stationed Trev's march into the ridiculous. Begrudgingly he tries handing over the keys that he doesn't have.

"Where the fuck are my keys?!!" Trev asked accusingly. I pulled them out of my pocket.

"Give me my fucking keys!"

"I will when you get home."

"I'm not leaving my fucking car here. Fuck all that."

"That's exactly what you're doing."

"Give me my goddamn keys right now." I start walking toward the door. This is getting loud and the bouncer has cast a curious eye in our direction. Time to go.

Finally, after more verbal wrangling, Trev gets his drunk ass in the car and we get him home. I walk him to the door--to get him out of the car, and hand him his keys.

"Now take me back to get my car!" Trev says.

"Not a chance. Call me when you get up in the morning, give me a call and I'll come get you." I said.

"Fuck that. Take me to get my fucking car right fucking now goddamn it."

"Trev, in the morning." I repeat. I'm drunk, tired and this conversation with a drunken gadfly is testing my patience like no other conversation before it. I turn to walk away.

Grabbing me by my arm and pulling me back Trev says, "Don't you walk away from me when I'm talking to you." Liquid courage at its finest. Trev is 5'9" 155 lbs with rocks in his pocket. I'm 6'2" and every bit of 215 pounds. I grit my teeth and remind myself that this is one of my best friends, and he is just drunk.

He jabs a finger in my face, "You take me to get my fucking car right now, dammit." Grinding my teeth,

"Trevor, let. go. of. my. fucking. arm." Realizing that he doesn't have his slingshot handy, he let's go. Sam pokes her head out of the car window

"Simon, let's go. Trev take your drunk ass to bed. Seriously!"

Trev looks in Sam's direction. Looks at me and says, "First thing in the morning, I'm calling and you get your ass down here to go get my car." It was painful for him to give in. That fact made me feel better. I nodded and walked away.

I climbed in the car and Randy says, "I thought you were going to kill him when he grabbed you."

"Trev? Nah." As if I never considered it.

"I'm calling bullshit." Sam muttered.