Friday night, 11:30 PM. Another wonderful day (yes, that’s sarcasm). I’m pretty much done for the day. Planned to get up early on Saturday, before the heat kicked in, and go for a nice long run, at least 8 miles’ worth. Plus, work had taken its toll and I didn’t see much percentage in staying up any longer, so I’m climbing into bed.
Phone rings. It’s my friend, KC. He’s married, with two kids, one fairly new (less than a year old) the other just into the Terrible Twos. I can’t imagine why he’s calling me on a Friday night. He lives at least 20 miles away in the rapidly-expanding suburbs of Vancouver, Washington.
I pick up. “Hey.” The background sounds I’m hearing… that couldn’t be music and bar noise? Could it?
“Hey,” KC says. He’s talking very loudly. “I’m gonna ask you a question, and I hope it’s not gonna sound weird.”
“O…K,” I said and waited.
“BESIDES the Acropolis, what’s the best strip club in Portland?”
“…” I start to answer, stop myself, listening to the music and the sounds of a crowd having fun, and try to put this together with my knowledge of my friend. Yes, before the kids were born, we’d had some good times hanging out in smoky bars. Hell, his wife had come along sometimes. But not in the last couple of years… “Where ARE you?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m out with some guys on a bachellor party! We’re… um… we’re somewhere in Old Town.”
“Oh.” My mind races. “Magic Garden?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty magical, all right! Let me tell you, there’s a serious hottie up right now… Oh, man.” He pauses, the phone sounds like he’s shifting to his other ear, then he’s back. “They’ve got a limo and everything!” His voice dropped an octave. “I’ve had a couple of beers.”
“No kidding. Um… BESIDES the Acropolis? I don’t know… I haven’t really hung out in any others recently. Not sure what to tell you. The Acrop is kinda like home now for me.” I guess now I’m the official information line for strip clubs in Portland.
“I’m trying to get them to — WHOA! — I’m trying to talk them into going to the Acrop. Want me to call you when — IF — we get there?”
I think about it. If they’re already at a place downtown, they won’t be getting to my end of town any time soon, probably. But KC’s pretty persuasive. And the Acrop is legendary. Plus… it’s Friday night. Sharai and Aine are probably both dancing tonight and it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. And I might gain some social proof if I showed up with friends, instead of the loner I usually am. “Sure, give me a call.”
“OK, man, catch ya later!” He hangs up.
I spend maybe two and a half minutes wondering if I should get up, put my contacts back in, get dressed, and surf and wait. I finally decide against it, figuring that the Acrop is close enough that I could still get dressed quickly enough and get down there shortly after their call.
Damn. I’d need some cash, though. The fucking ATM fees at the club are usurious. Oh, well. The price we pay for entertainment…
I fall back into bed. I fall asleep. I wake up approximately six and a half hours later.
I check my phone. SEVEN missed calls from KC’s cell. Phone was on silent. I also have four voice mails.
First VM was left at 12:47 AM – “Dude, we are goin’ to the Acrop! Meet us there! WHOOO!”
Second VM, at 12:58 AM – “We! Are! Here! I hope you’re here somewhere… Oh, man!”
Third VM, at 1:12 AM – “Dude, get off yer azz and get zome clothz onnnnn… and get down here. You. Are. Seriously. Missing. Out.”
Fourth VM, 1:21 AM – “Duuuuuuuuuude… duuuuuuuuude… Soooooo… hot… Dayam!” It continued on in that vein for at least another couple of minutes before finally cutting off.
I’m laughing my ass off. I remember now that I HATE bachellor parties, and the goofy antics of drunk guys who don’t go out very often. Still… KC’s pretty amusing when he’s drunk. I’m half thankful I wasn’t there, and half regretful that I wasn’t there. Oh, well, next time…
When I came back from my run, I had another VM from my friend. Sounding a bit embarassed, he said, “Hey. It’s KC. Um, I hope your phone was off last night or something. Sorry I called so many times. Hope I didn’t wake you up, or interrupt anything, or… Yeah. I had a few beers. But, um, damn, the Acropolis is… is a very friendly place, if you catch my meaning. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to stay too long. But, um, I’ll catch you later or update you on Monday. Have a good weekend!”