Monday night mayhem

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Ashwin, Rajen, Homes, Deepak and Igor star in this episode, entitled, "Rocked by the Rockit Room."

The evening started off like any Monday evening might and like many have in Mondays past. Dinner, a beer, an episode of Seinfeld where Jerry gets angry at Banya for being annoying. But the true protagonists in this story are not the five aformentioned drunken soldiers. The true protagonist is an innocent lady named Katie.

Katie invited me to Rockit Room for some harmless Monday night jubilation, having procured a flyer that advertised a free shot with every beer. So I went. And a few friends came. Four friends.

The thing is, we weren't going to drink much. We had a beer, had a shot, and put ourselves into a booth. But our bartender John, an upbeat English fellow recently over from London, promptly came over to our zone of lounging, placed five shot glasses assertively on the table, poured a generous round of tequila shots, donated a few limes and fucked off. We shrugged and, well, down the hatch.

This kept happening. All night.

This did not bode well for the morning.

This was inevitable and a result of our propensity to get ourselves into trouble.

Pool was played with old men named I-forget-what. Questionable-looking girls were hit on and their drunken suitor-hopefuls were embarrassingly unabashed. Drinking jenga was played, and NOT well. One of us may or may not have toppled the jenga tower on the 3rd turn of the game, a tell-tale sign of moderate blood alcohol content. People were met, spoken to, names were scarcely remembered.

Some of us returned more coherent than others -- I like to consider myself one of the proud few, though all is relative -- but the walk home did not end without streetside urination, wrestling and falling, not necessarily in that order. An unnamed clansman ended up lying in a gutter for what seemed like a short period of time.

Katie wisely removed herself from harm's way by leaving in the early hours of this saga. Like a Houdini among sherpas, she abandoned us on the most perilous peaks of Mt. Kilamandrunko.

Thank you Miss Katie for writing, directing and producing a night of debauchery. We just wish you'd have joined the cast.

Back to caressing my water and watching the clock.



Update: I am pleased to announce that our very close friend vomit also made an appearance last night. Luckily, she also made a disappearance. A pair of unnamed cast members -- or rather, they have names, but I shan't name them here -- decorated my bathroom floor with a chunky rendition of the famous big white phone call. And speaking of phones: one unlucky cast member did manage to come home cellphoneless.