R.I.P. Pub Club

The Pub Club converged last night at Ruby Tuesday. Everyone was happy with the level of service except me. I don’t care how hot the bartender was, I still thought he was a dumbass. I mean, Christ, he kept removing my empty glasses and not bothering to refill them or even ask me if I wanted something else. And while I do demand service on a normal occasion, I was in no mood to beg him to let me spend money. The way I see it, he’s dependent upon tips, and if he keeps serving me drinks, that ups the bar bill. Further, the happier (and let’s face it, drunker) I am, the better the tips. We were there five hours, and I had four drinks, and that’s only because Shan and O were begging the guy to serve me. He did fine by them, but again, they were not shy about calling attention to their empty glasses. And Ed (the bartender) is damn lucky that Shan and O paid the tabs and tips, because I am a lot less forgiving, considering that nobody else was in the fucking bar but us and IKEA Boy.

At any rate, the night ended badly. IKEA Boy offered to drive O home, which pissed her off. He had to leave, so Shan and I decided that if he thought she wasn’t in good enough shape to drive, then perhaps we should pick up on his lead and make the same offer. She was FURIOUS!!! She began ranting that she’s a grown woman and that we don’t know her and that we need to just back the fuck off. It got ugly. Very, very ugly. She started crying and raging and essentially, making a fool out of herself — which only served to prove that she was entirely too toasted to get behind a wheel.

I’ll be perfectly honest — I love O, I’d do anything for her, but my concern was just as much for innocent pedestrians and drivers on the road as it was for her own personal safety. I’ve been in a car that was smashed by a drunk driver. I’m lucky to have lived. I drive when I’m tipsy, but it’s probably no worse than when I’m sober, because I am an erratic, hyper driver by nature. And we learned the hard way that O is one belligerent drunk, and when you’re trying to take the keys away from someone in that state and they aren’t letting you, you feel the beginnings of survivor’s guilt — not to be a fatalist, but you know to start preparing yourself in the event that bad news involving that person comes your way.

At any rate, O said she’s had it with the Pub Club, we’re all assholes, fuck us, and don’t think that she will ever be a part of any drinking activities with us again. Whatever. Perhaps the Pub Club, as it is, needs to change. I go drinking with Shan, and I go drinking with IKEA Boy, and no drama like this ever occurs. Maybe the three of us should keep the club going. Like Shan says, we all have too fucking much drama in our personal and work lives to deal with anybody else’s drama.

I don’t mean to sound like a bad friend or even a callous ass, but I’ve got better (or at least, more pressing) things to worry about. But I do hope she got home OK. I haven’t wandered down the hall yet to see if she bothered showing up today. I hope she did, because, I’ll admit, I’ll be thinking about her all weekend.

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