friends don't let friends...

How did people drunk dial before cell phones grew so popular? Did they have to wait till the morning after? I drunk dialed a few times this week--first, from the Heritage Wine Bar in Pasadena. I ended up there with a co-worker after a really bad meeting. Two glasses of syrrah and a basketful of bread later, I was shouting into Beatriz's phone, "Listen carefully because I'm a little bit drunk: karaoke. The Brass Monkey in Koreatown. It will happen."

It didn't happen for her, but we did manage to field a team of four--two folks from work, myself, and Kevin Bacon. (Bacon for short; she's a vegetarian and likes Irony.) I covered 70s Brit punk with the Clash, and somebody did an is-she-on-heroin-or-just-really-dedicated-to-the-craft-of-karaoke version of Tina's "Private Dancer": "... a dancer for muuuuney / I do what you want me to doooooo..."

Drunk Dialing #2 was Thursday night. I was at Akbar, getting hit on very aggressively by a bisexual girl who wasn't hearing "no" very well. There have been times I would've dug this immensely, but Thursday night wasn't one of them, and I stumbled out the door.

Alone on Sunset Blvd. again, the taste of beer in my mouth and whiff of Marlboros in my hair, I pulled out my phone and woke up the vegetarian Bacon. Her cheery voice thrilled me. My car careened the 15 miles to her house without ever slowing to a complete stop, and waiting on the broken sidewalk outside her building, boy, I was saved.