A trip to Bluegrass Tavern
By Matt Sullivan
We were at that state of inebriation where you feel vacuous and bubbly, like you might float away if you don’t try hard to stay on the ground, when we passed Soundbar. That wasn’t our destination this night. The three of us would most certainly return to our safe haven, but not this early. Right now we were trying something new, for me anyways. Something different to ruffle the routine we had fallen into for our weekend fun.
Sauntering down Limestone, my boyfriend, our friend who I will refer to as E, and I ran in to a drunken foreshadowing of what I presumed was to come. Two large, hairy, drunk men were bumbling down the sidewalk speaking to each other and assaulting girls on the opposite sidewalk with dazed walrus grunts. The girls would look over, first at us, and then seeing that there was no way the three of us could produce those noises, at the two guys stumbling near us. The responses varied. Some girls howled back in appreciation. Others just laughed to their friends and kept walking. Some pretended they didn’t hear. They asked us where McCarthy’s was and my boyfriend said something to them, but I kept walking. He’s more polite than I am.