The morning started like any other — I woke up a little hungover. I was lying in bed trying to decide between going to a doctor’s appointment and sleeping in some more. After deciding that going to appointments were a part of being an adult, I gathered myself and my things together. I was staying at a friend’s and needed to go home first.
Nervous that my friend would come home to find her house had burned down (she’d already left for work), I made sure to double check everything was turned off and just how she left it. I opened the front door, turned the lock, pulled the door closed and made sure it was secure. As I turned to walk to my car in the brisk morning air, I said to myself matter of factly, “You left your car keys on the couch.” I frantically poured the contents of my purse onto the ground. Yep, they were locked inside where they would be for at least 10 more hours while my friend toiled away at her job.
With 12 percent battery life on my phone, I requested an Uber and called my P.I.C., who laughed at me. “Well,” she said, “come on over to my house. We have lots of games to watch and drinking to do.”
Smudged with makeup and wearing an aroma of morning breath, I plopped down in my Uber with a driver whom I’ve had before — another sign I go out too much. We laughed about my predicament as he dropped me off at the “usual spot” and encouraged me to drink the day away. Challenge accepted.
As soon as I got with my P.I.C., we planned the day’s drinking events. It wasn’t long before she decided we should go to Draught — which is apparently pronounced “draft.” I hadn’t heard of it, seeing as I’m not a huge football fan, but I wasn’t surprised to learn it was a sports bar that opened last August.
Draught is located in Third Ward right behind Bank of America Stadium. Parked inside a renovated warehouse building, it has plenty of character, featuring exposed beams and brick. On this particular day, a tent had been set up outside to extend the upstairs bar area. Apparently, someone decided to have an engagement party on the same day as the big game against the Seattle Seahawks, which meant the entire downstairs was off-limits. (I quickly learned that also meant everyone would be waiting on the single bathroom upstairs.)
When we arrived, there was plenty of room for movement but most of the tables and bar stools were taken. Just when I was getting nervous that we would be standing up while we watched my “favorite” kind of television, my P.I.C. noticed three picnic tables underneath the tent that, unlike the surrounding tables, weren’t marked “reserved.” She asked someone setting them up if we could have one and was told yes. I guess chivalry and Southern hospitality aren’t dead. This was seriously V.I.P. seating, complete with two humongous projectors for viewing the game. Score! Or is it touchdown?
In between what felt like hour-long bathroom trips, I snagged a menu. Expecting your usual wings and fries, I was genuinely surprised when I saw avocado salsa served with waffle fries and pizza egg rolls, among many other specialty apps. Did I mention that our V.I.P. seating meant we had a waitress? No fighting the quickly growing crowd around the bar. I felt like a winner already, and the Panthers game hadn’t even started.
By kickoff, the combination of Strongbow Cider and Fireball shots already had me feeling fuzzy. Suddenly, I could feel the roller coaster of excitement and disappointment of the much more faithful fans around me. Crown Royal waitresses brought free shots of their new Regal Apple flavor around. Free?!
Of course, we all know the Panthers lost, so that was a bit of a downer but with the amount of drinking we had done, the night continued as football fans drifted home and the music turned up.
Given my morning, I had accepted that the day would be all downhill from there. And even though the next day I woke up with the worst hangover I’ve had in a while, in the same outfit, contacts and un-showered for going on 48 hours, my Saturday was a success! The best part? Someone passed out temporary tattoos during the game, and I must have liked the idea because I discovered a panthers tramp stamp. I guess I’ve got more team spirit than I realized. Go Panthers!
This article appears in Jan 21-27, 2015.
This column is genuinely disturbing. It’s obvious that the author is an alcoholic. I hope she at least had the courtesy to call and cancel the doctor’s appointment before calling Uber. And then called the doctor again to start detox. Can’t remember where her car keys are and then can’t remember getting tramp-stamped? Not cute. Not funny. Not entertaining.
Dear Mr. John Q.,
I take it you’ve never locked your self out of your car or forgot to turn a light off or had too much to drink? Take your uptight condemnation elsewhere. You’re clearly not ready for anyone that’s telling the truth about what it is light to be a mid-twenties female post-college pre-kids/marriage. Until you walk a mile in someones shoes, it’s best not to judge.
**like
But, I’m sure you’ve never made a typo either.
=)