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I love this concept, start drinking early and you are
rewarded for it! seeing as how everybody in law is an
alcholic this is just music to the (seemingly) logical mind
of a lawyer. if i start drinking early i save money, since
i will inevitably drink myself into a stupor at some point
in the day, i might as well do it at the most opportune time!
my boss followed this logic to a T starting at 3 pm. he, my
supervisor, and i were sitting at the local mexican
restaurant discussing some HUD filings that we had to get
out. as i sat there munching on some chips trying as hard
as possible to keep the grease and salsa from hitting the
annual report of activity my boss casually told the waitress,
"we'll have a pitcher of margaritas."
i immediately perked up and look at him wide-eyed.
"well shit they're 7 bucks instead of 10, we'd be stupid not
to do it."
this started at 3 on friday. by about 5 we were a bit drunk
and he called the firm to get the other paralegals and
associates to join us. by about 5:15 we were a group of 8
rambunctious margarita guzzlers. as i sat there basking in
the sun, the annual report of activity long sunken in the
pool of iced alcohol floating so enticingly infront of my
eyes. we were sitting there enjoying the afternoon speaking
and laughing when i caught wind of the following conversation.
"my boyfriend is incredibly at sex."
now this seems quite common in the position that we were in,
except that it came from a man's mouth.
being a little bit liquored up and not able to think before
i did anything i turned around with a perplexed arched
eyebrow. as i finished whirling around i found myself face
to face with about 30 piercings, greasy black hair hanging
over a pasty face.
now few things are as uncomfortable than being confronted by
your own narrow-mindedness than literally being confronted
by your own narrow-mindedness. i quickly whirled back and
heard a chuckle,
"ruffled some feathers i see."
ouch. damn. turn back? no. anyone else notice? no.
hmmm, then my mind trailed off to the guy in the polka dot
shirt with sunglasses and a walkman over his neck. 'hadn't
he been standing there for the past 20 mins? why doesn't he
sit down?' i watched him some more and noticed he was doing
something very odd. every so often he would rub his face
and look directly into the sun.' something just wasn't right
with him but i sat there quietly determined not to make
another ass out of myself.
i tuned back into the conversatoin which had largely
digressed into josh pointing out how incredibly hot the
waitresses were. i had to admit he was right and after a
while i noticed that as i was watching the waitresses the
guy with the sunglasses and walkman was now staring directly
at me (or so i believe as i couldn't really see his eyes)
and was now bouncing to the walkman which was no longer
around his neck but his ears.
i shifted my glances from him to the waitresses and after a
while got a bit unnerved just as he approached our table. he
immediately clattered into the chairs infront of him and had
to be helped up. it was then that i noticed that he was
the waiters (who had been doing a great job of having been
ignoring him up until now) quickly bombarded him with what
he thought he was doing here. my boss a man who loves any
sort of calamity quickly spun around and said,
"what's up? you waiting for someone? come sit with us."
so there we were, now having a beer (well he had water) with
a blind guy who had heretofore just stood passively
unnoticed for 20 minutes sweating in the heat. he was
waiting for someone who apparently had decided they weren't
going to come and now he didn't know what to do as he
couldn't get home.
it was at this point that i realized i would hate to be
blind more than anything. i mean talk about really relying
on the helpfullness of others. sure when you're in a
wheelchair you kind of have to rely on people but at least
you can sort of do things yourself and society really bends
over to make your life less miserable. but when you're
blind think of how terrifying it is to cross a street? a
couple of weeks ago (see my earlier good deed journal entry)
i had tried to help a blind guy cross the street who had
sorely dismissed my help.
it must really suck. so we sat there, the gay guy behind me
still boring holes in the back of my head and the blind guy
boring holes in the front of it.
it was indeed a happy hour.