Sunday saw me at the office at 10 in the morning. I spent the whole day there, finishing my project at 10 in the evening. I felt that I'd earned a drink or twelve, so it was off to Carnaval to visit The Beauty, and to have a few drinks, before puttering home, since I had to be at work again by 9:30 the next morning.
When I walked in, the bouncer didn't recognize me, apparently, I've been away awhile. I'm also not a pretty girl, which means that bouncers frequently forget me.
When I got there The Beauty asked how things were going, and, after a quick check of my personal life, I told her the truth. "Awesome." She was surprised, since I generally come there to commiserate with her about how bad things are for both of us.
I spent five minutes trying to remember the name of my drink for the night (Cuervo? No. Cerveza? No. Courvoisier? No. Corona? Oh yeah) which basically told me that not only was I burned out, but that I needed many, many drinks.
After 15 minutes, the shots of Momojuana started coming out, and things started to turn more entertaining.
Carnaval on a Sunday night is a mix of beautiful women, guys who can dance to Latin music, a set of live drummers, The Beauty, a bouncer, a manager, maybe another bartender, and me. I'm always amazed that on Sunday night at Midnight, there are so many beautiful women out.
As the night progressed, The Beauty introduced me to another bartender that works there, who had tattoos out to there, and was much more friendly to me than I was to her. She tried engaging me in conversation, but I was essentially brain dead. I nursed my beers, had some Momojuana, and mumbled, vaguely coherently, about myself.
At one point, The Beauty looked at the other bartender, who seemed confused as to why she thought I was an ok guy, and said "you don't understand. He's quiet, but he's just... he's got this thing. He's the coolest guy you could ever want to meet, but he's not like us, he's got a job, he's got it all. If I were going to get married, I want to marry him." The other bartender was floored. My jaw met her on the floor.
When I met The Beauty in 1999, I developed an instant crush on her. It only grew as I got to know her. We hooked up a few times, and after we did, she told me she did it so that I would chill out around her. It worked, although the crush remains. Different kind of crush now, though. A mutual admiration society thing.
A little while later, a new group of girls showed up, each cuter than the last. I kept my head down, facing my drink, almost hiding in a plant. I was out to drink, not to meet girls, and my head was pounding from a project that wouldn't die.
I stepped away to use the bathroom, and on my return, my head had mysteriously cleared itself up. Must've been fate. Or pissing out the bad karma. Or the booze.
I drank some more, was introduced to the ladies, and the rest of the night starts to blur.
At one point, I was caught grinding between X, the tall, thin, beautiful black girl, and her friend whose name I never caught, who spoke with a French accent, was a little shorter, white, and had curves built for pleasure and speed. Well, I'd been grinding on X when she rolled into the fray. There were typical scenes with some other guy trying to get in her face to try to take her home, X and The Beauty flashing their boobs at each other, and the original tatooed girl making out with another similarly tatooed girl. And then, at a certain point, the music was going, and I was grinding with X, and I leaned down and kissed her. She grabbed my ass and pulled me closer, and I grabbed her hair and pulled it just above the nape of her neck. We got very passionate for about five minutes, when her friends came and dragged her away.
As the night wound down, I checked my Blackberry only to discover that it was 3:30. So much for a few drinks and then bed. Figuring that I'd leave, I started to make my excuses and blow air kisses at The Beauty. Obviously, the Universe was again toying with me because a sorta creepy guy started talking to The Beauty. "Hey pretty lady, thank you. Thank you for the drinks tonight. You're very pretty." She rolled her eyes at me, giving me girl code for "don't you dare leave me with this scary dude" and asked if I'd stay through closing. And after.
She gave me another beer and some more Momojuana. I stood under one of the plants again. Four o'clock, and the bouncer started to throw people out, but he ignored me. Four fifteen, and X came back and said "So when am I going to see you again?"
"I don't know, I'm here on Sundays."
"You'll need my number."
"Ok..." I pulled out my cell phone to give it to her. I had planned to take her picture, get her number, and put the two things together so I'd remember her. Obviously that would have been too smooth, so the Universe decided that my phone should be out of juice instead.
I pulled out my blackberry and got her number. And the first letter of her name. I have no idea what her name is to this day. I promised I'd call. Which I did.
UPDATE: Rugby, whom you may remember as one of my few remaining guy friends, moved to San Diego, and in a fit of memory upheaval, I remembered going to Carnaval with him back in July, while he was still living here.
That night, as usual, the bar was full of beautiful girls, and one of them walked up to him and asked after me. That much I remembered. More than that was a blur.
I called Rugby via my powerbook's voice conference program tonight. Asked him about that girl. He remembered her. Which surprised me, somewhat, but then when he described her... "Yeah, she was a totally beautiful, tall black girl."
"Did she have an afro?"
"Yeah. It was huge" apparently, she made an impression on him.
It seems this story didn't just begin on Sunday.
--------