Be Happy

It was Friday night and Mark and I were ready to cut loose after a long week of work. Actually, it was only four days due to Memorial Day, and more specifically for me, it was really only three days due to an event I was attending on Friday, but damn it, we still needed a few drinks.

The night started off in typical fashion, neither of us knew what to do.  There was talk of going downtown but that's always a hassle, and even of some place new, but we both fear change.  Regardless, we always seem to end up at the same karaoke bar by the end of the night anyway, so, it was really just a question of what to do in the meantime.

Mark had some work friends drinking at a bar on Morena Blvd so we went with that idea.  Again, it would only be for a few hours as we were already planning our song selections for later in the night.  The interim destination was so-so; the typical Friday night happy hour folk who were just avoiding going home to their families.  Some guy was playing guitar and trying to sing cover songs.  A dying cat would have been better, and of course our table was right in front of him.  This made it slightly awkward when he wrapped up for the night and no one in our group bothered to tip him.  Oh well, back to flipping burgers for you.

By 10:30 both of us knew it was time to jump ship as the crowd was thinning out and Mark's co-workers were too drunk to stand up.  We called a cab and waited for our friends at Orange Cab to show up.  I love the Orange Cab!

In just a few minutes the cab showed up and the driver laughed out loud when we told him where we were going - basically from one dive bar to the next.  Within minutes we were standing in front of our favorite dive bar, The Last Day.  I particularly like this bar since the owner and several of the cocktail waitresses know me by name and I'm always welcomed with high-fives or hugs.  It's good to be famous even if it's among alcoholics and degenerates.  

Within seconds of walking in we already had our pitcher of beer and a couple of songs in the queue for karaoke.  So far, so good, and the night was proceeding as planned.  

And then, she appeared.

A very tall brunette walked in and sat down at our table without hesitation.  This looked very promising to my boy Mark as I am happily married and he is quite single.  Let the games begin...

This poor girl had no idea what hit her as we started in on her from both sides of the rickety bar table.  What's your name (still have no idea), where ya from (quickly forgot), what do you do (a Marine, yes, I have total recall), why are you at this shit-hole of a bar (ditched her boyfriend for the night), etc.  She probably was so dizzy from the back and forth that she missed the fact that I kept ordering her a fresh drink every 15 minutes.

All in all, she seemed totally normal and was just looking for some fun after having an exhaustive argument with her boyfriend after seeing "Mama Mia" earlier.  She certainly came to the right place.

It didn't take long for both Mark and I to get called to the stage for our individual performances.  I was trying out a little Tom Petty and it didn't go very well.  I thought I could pull off 'Into The Great Wide Open' but I was either too sober or the room was too quiet; either way it was a bust.

When asked if Girl X was going to sing, she politely said that she would be too embarrassed by herself so I took this as an invitation to sing a duet and charged to the podium to request the best icebreaker song known to man. 

Within a few minutes, Girl X and I were called on stage to sing 'Love Shack' by the B-52s which is becoming one of my most favorite karaoke songs, especially with random and unassuming women.  

Now, let me back up a minute here.  I was born in the mid-70s and consider myself a child of the 80's.  I remember such classics as music videos, Michael Jackson's hair catching on fire, Ronald Reagan and best of all, the B-52s.  I sometimes forget that not everyone shares my same memories but if you've been to a wedding in the past 20 years you know 'Love Shack.'  Now, you may not know it word for word but you at least know the tune and can fake it, especially with the words plastered before you on a huge flat-screen TV.

Well, not this girl.  As I was performing like only Fred Schneider knows how, this girl couldn't even get the beat right.  It was as if this was the first time she had ever heard the song.  

"Your what?..."
"Teh muh, musty!?"

God damn it, am I really that old? How does she not know this song?

In order to save face, I had to pull double duty and was now alternating between the Fred and the Kate/Cindy parts.  It wasn't ideal but I pulled it off with grace.

As we sat down, I was getting high fives whereas she was getting looks of disgust.  How could she ruin such a classic song?  How could anyone screw it up that bad? And, worst of all, on my watch?  Such is life - another round of drinks please!

For the next hour or so, Mark and I continued with some of our A material.  Every word that came our of our mouths was hysterical and she thought we were comedic geniuses.  However, she kept checking her phone and of course I knew it was the boyfriend, so I asked to hold her phone for the night so she could enjoy herself.  Amazingly, she said yes and I pocketed her iPhone for the duration.

Drinks, drinks and more drinks, but then things started to turn.

The first sign of disaster was the inevitable, "You guys are gay, right?'"

"No, we're just two dudes that happen to like karaoke dive bars."  That's normal, right?

"That's great, because I think you (me) are really flucking hot!"

No typo, that's just how it sounded - flucking hot.  Not a good sign either.
 
"Thanks, that's sweet but I'm married.  Hey, Mark is single; don't you think he's cute?"

She peered over at Mark with her one sober eye, shrugged her shoulders then grabbed him and proceeded to make out, mouth wide open as if she was going to swallow him whole.  Note: Mark is much smaller than her and this was a real concern at the time.

I smiled as if this was all my doing and enjoyed the Rick James impersonation in the background.

Once Mark came up for air, Mark stood up and headed for the bathroom.  He was probably checking to make sure he still had his tonsils but I can't be sure. Just as Mark stepped away, Girl X took a long look at me and said angrily, "You're not my friend, you just want to f#ck me!"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You're just like everyone else.  You're only being nice to me so you can f#ck me!"

Houston, yeah, you know what's up.

I tried to reiterate the fact that I was a) happily married, b) at no point in the night alluded to being attracted to her, and c) I certainly didn't say anything nice so I could f#ck her, I was just being nice.  In fact, I threw Mark at her as a good wingman should, so this was all coming from left field.  It didn't matter, this ship was starting to take on water and there wasn't much I could do.

So, rather than trying to play the nice guy and resist the argument, I shot back and said, "Look, I'm trying to enjoy my Friday night with my buddy, and the last thing I'm going to put up with is some girl, who I barely know, accusing me something that I'm not.  So, either be cool or find another table to sit at because I've done nothing to deserve this."

Then, after a couple of bewildered looks and a few long blinks, she started to cry.  It was a couple of tears at first but then more and more came flooding in.  "Nobody likes me.  I have no friends.  Why won't you be my friend?"

Shit, Houston, the O-ring just cracked!

My god, what the hell just happened?  This night went from karaoke fun to a Chuck  E. Cheese nightmare.

Mark came back from the bathroom but i wasn't about to drag us both down so I took this adventure on by myself.  She kept on crying and complaining that she didn't know anyone in town and that she had a son and has already been divorced once and has an asshole of a boyfriend, yada, yada, yada.

Well, I endured for as long as possible, but as soon as she stood up to use use the bathroom, I knew we had to make a move.  As Girl X entered the bathroom and closed the door, Mark and I both stood up, walked briskly to the bar, found the owner and handed the iPhone to her with explicit instructions.  "There's a bat-shit crazy girl in the bathroom right now.  We're getting the hell out of here.  Give this to her if she comes out."

With that we were gone.  And, we didn't just saunter out, we ran like the wind.  Out the door and left on Rosecrans at full speed.  Unfortunately, we've been north on Rosecrans too many times in the past with no success in finding cabs, so we stopped at about 100 yards and crossed the street, then came sprinting back towards Nimitz.  This was of course risky since we would be passing back by the bar, but we are dangerous men.

After stopping for a late night donut at Winchell's, we caught a cab and laughed all the way back to my house.

Ok, so here comes the lesson.  Yes, Girl X had some tough issues but here's the thing; this girl was brave enough to show up alone at a total dive bar, sit down with two complete strangers and strike up a conversation.  Now, either she was looking for a gang bang or she was truly looking to meet new people and find new friends.  I was hoping for the latter, especially living in San Diego where everyone has the same story and is from somewhere other than here.

However, in order to effectively open up to new people, you have to be happy with the person inside you first, and for most, that is a hard thing to do.  Our friend Girl X certainly wasn't happy with herself.  She clearly craved the attention of men in order to prop her self-esteem up for the time being, and the second anyone rejected her, everything came crashing down.  I went from being the cute, funny guy who sang "Love Shack" to just another asshole in a bar.

Life can be hard but in my short tenure I know that everything happens for a reason and experience builds character.  That character should be what makes us stronger and more confident inside.  I've been through good and bad relationships, I've been through a messy divorce, I've been laid off from various positions over the years, I've lost a ton of money on bad financial decisions but guess what, I hold my head high and know that these experiences have led me to where I am today.  I'm successful, healthy, married to a beautiful woman who adores me, I have a wonderful son who still thinks I'm cool, and a have a great network for friends who would do anything for me.  Best of all, I'm totally and completely happy with the man inside of me.

"Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin' baby 
Funky little shack! Funk-y little shack! "

Yes, life can be hard but you only get one pass at it, so be happy.

Never Give Up

"Holy sh#t, I made my flight!"  

I'm seated in 31D at 30,000 feet flying back home to San Diego and I still can't believe I made it, and I wasn't even the last person to board.  Right on!

Last night was one of those typical post-conference boozathons where me and a hundred or so of my closest friends drank our way through New York City until 4 in the morning.  By the end of the night, the group had whittled down to 7 or so of the hard core drinkers and we found our way to some college bar in mid-town.  You know you're in a college bar when a fight breaks out over god-knows-what, some kid is literally passed out in the middle of the bar and the paramedics show up.  A grade A night in my book.

The night ended like any other scotch induced escapade, the world was spinning ever so slightly and I all I wanted to do was get some rest before my 10:50am flight out of Newark the next morning.  

I can operate fairly well on only 3 hours of sleep so I figured this would be easy:

- Cab at 4am
- Back at the hotel by 4:15am
- Pack by 4:30am
- Sleep till 7:30am
- Showered and on the street by 8:00am
- Arrive at the airport by 9:00am
- Check in, through security and in line at Dunkin' Donuts by 10:00am

My only obligation to my wife on this trip was to pick up 2 dozen donuts.  Sorry babe, you'll have to wait until next time.

The plan started to unravel when my drinking cohorts jumped into the only cab on the street and promptly drove off leaving me cursing the fat f#cker in the backseat for not making room for me.  I guess I looked like I wanted to take a stroll by myself through Times Square at 4am.  So, off I went.

It was a beautiful night and I actually loved seeing the city that quiet.  I bummed a smoke off some girl on Park Ave, grabbed a hot dog in Times Square and suddenly felt like a "real" New Yorker.  Hell, I was even walking with authority and purpose.  Ok, I may have been skipping and whistling the whole time but no one can confirm that.  The walk probably took an hour or so but I still have no idea since my cell phone was totally dead.  I could care less; I never had so much fun walking by myself.  

I love New York!

Fast forward to my hotel room where I wake up completely dressed, shoes still on, wallet in my pocket, TV blaring, lights on and me feeling like I'm on a Tilt-a-Whirl.  I roll over and then reality starts to set in.  

"Wow, what the hell happened last night? Wait, where am I?  Oh, that's right I'm in New York for a conference.  Cool.  Hold on, what time is it?  Holy, sh#t it's 9am!!!  My flight!!!  Ah, f#ck me!!!"

I knew Newark was at least 45 minutes away by cab but it was rush hour and I hadn't even packed yet.  It was time to start smiling and dialing loved ones, co-workers and the airline to break the news that I may or may not be coming home today because I was too drunk to set an alarm.  Those are not the calls I like to make, especially to my wife who is all too accustomed to my antics.

I walked over to my laptop, flipped it open and began to type in www.continental.com when it hit me - wait a minute, why am I giving up that easy?  I know there is little to no chance that I'll get to the airport by the time my flight leaves but I'll never know for sure if I sit here and cry in my Cheerios.  I looked back at the clock which now read 9:08am and said "f#ck it, I'm going to make that plane!" 

Cut to me grabbing everything off the desk and dumping it into my backpack, throwing everything on the floor into my suitcase and then dashing out the door.  

Time on the clock: 9:12am - chances of being screwed: 99.9%

Down the elevator and out on the street.  Hailed and caught a cab in record time and was now slowly heading down 8th Avenue towards the Lincoln Tunnel.  

Time on the clock: 9:15am - chances of being screwed: 99.5%

When you are in a hurry, traffic always seems slow but when you are in a panic, traffic actually starts to move backwards.  I think Einstein wrote something about that but I still need to cite the source.  

Traffic to the tunnel was as you would expect, totally jammed.  Surprise, surprise.  Oh well, it was now out of my hands.  I then fire up my phone and send a couple of messages to my peeps on Twitter (all 6 of them) and to my wife.  I was on my way home but not likely today.  Such is life.

For what seemed like an eternity actually turned out to be 60 minutes door to door.  

Time on the clock: 10:15am - chances of being screwed: 85%  

I grab my bags, pay the cab and walk to the ticket counter to check my bags and to work on plan B to return home.  I didn't even bother to run since I saw the line at the counter was going to take forever.  I approached the agent at the front of the line who asked what time my flight was.  I told him it didn't really matter since I was going to miss it but he insisted.  My boy Paul checked his watch, looked at departure kiosk and said, "No you won't, I got this."  Bam, to the front of the line and officially checked in at 10:19am.  A full minute before the mandatory 30 minute cut off!  On to security.  

Time on the clock: 10:22am - chances of being screwed: 75%

I don't know why but the airport was totally dead and only had about 10 people in line for security.  Even better - everyone seemed to know the process by heart.  Shoes off, bottles out, laptops in bins, keys in trays, go, go, go.  Maybe it was an east coast thing.  I'm usually stuck behind the 80 year old chinese woman who is still trying to figure out why the planes aren't falling from the sky.  Not this time, nothing but pros.

Time on the clock: 10:30am - chances of being screwed: 50%

My pace picked up a bit as I headed to Gate 92 which is of course 4.3 miles from security, but it's all good, I've got the people movers to double my speed.  I arrive at the gate and jump in line behind 4 other people who looked much more put together than I do but this was like golf, it didn't matter how I got there, I was 6 feet from the door and I had a putter in my hand.  

I made it with time to spare!

Not that I ever want to go through this experience again, it did remind me of a good lesson in life; no matter how bad it looks you always have to try.  Sure you may fail miserably and miss that flight, lose that client, or have a drink thrown in your face, but a 0.1% chance of success is still better than a 100% chance of failure.

The best of the best learn from their experiences and don't think that even the most successful people haven't failed, they have.  Donald Trump nearly went bankrupt but now owns half of New York, Apple failed miserably with the Newton but now has the iPhone, iPad and iPod in the hands of millions of raving fans, and even top comedians like Chris Rock bomb at local clubs while honing their jokes before filming for HBO and Comedy Central.  The difference is they never give up.  More importantly, they learned from their mistakes, made improvements and tried again, and again, and again, until they got it right.

Remember, never give up or else you might be stuck in Newark for the unforeseeable future.  And, trust me, nobody wants that.

Now, where's that flight attendant; I need a drink.