THURSDAY HANGOVER

It's Thursday and I'm hungover. I didn't plan this (who does?) but the electricity was out at my apartment after some strong storms blew through the area yesterday afternoon. What was I going to do, sit in the candlelight and read a book/write that novella I've been putting off/play strip solitare, while waiting for the power to come back on? I pondered my alternatives, and of course "golf" and "beer" kept popping up. So I threw the clubs in the car and headed towards Nyack, and since it started to rain on the way to the driving range, I just headed straight to Bourbon Street. As I drove into town the traffic light was out, but the bar was lit up like a shining alcoholic beacon. For some reason, they are on a part of the electrical grid that never loses power. Thank god for that.

Somewhere between the first and second shots of Jameson I drank (also not planned), the power came on at the bank across the street, which I decided was an advantageous time to drain my checking account. I was about to cross Main Street when an attractive young girl in a huge black SUV rolled down the window and asked, "Excuse me, do you know how to get to Lace?" About 1000 different things popped into my head at that moment (most of them not safe for work) as I tried to come up with an appropriate response. Here are a few of them:

"The directions are complicated, I wouldn't be able to tell you. How about I hop in and show you?"

"Lace? You look like you belong at Stiletto."

"Why? Are you working there tonight?"

"Just a warning: if you're going to Lace, you're wearing waaaay too much."

"I was just headed there! Mind if I ride with you?"

"Funny you should ask, because I'm the one holding the auditions! But because of the power outages, we're recruiting new talent at Bourbon Street."

So what did I actually say? Uhm, I merely gave her directions. I'm so stupid.