Definitely a Bocce Ball Court

On certain occasions, a night is filled with wild quotes and occurrences, but has no real unifying “story”. Recently, I had such a night. The below transcript is my attempt to share it with you.

Dave is the wildest person I know. Nick is the most rational person I know when he is sober, but the most narcoleptic person I know when he is drunk. We will not meet sober Nick tonight and, for the most part, we will not meet drunk Nick either. Dave, Nick, and I have been pre-gaming for far too long.

Me: “Cue’s [a dive bar nearby] is about to close. Should we bother?”
Dave: “Yes.”

At Cue’s. Nick is already groggy and slides into a booth. Dave and I approach the bar.

Dave: “We will have two pitchers, please.”
Bartender: “You won’t have time to drink those.”
Dave: “Yes we will. And four shots of Jameson.”

Fifteen minutes, two pitchers, and four shots of Jameson, pass. Nick is asleep in the booth. Cue’s closes.

Me: “We’re being kicked out.”
Dave: “I know.”
Me: “Where should we go? Nick is asleep.”
Dave: “A strip club?”
Me: “Strip club’ll be the only thing open. Nick, wake up! We’re going to a strip club.”
Dave: “Wait, I don’t want to go to a strip club. Let’s find a house party.”
Me: “I can’t find a house party right now.”

45 Seconds, two texts, and one miracle later:

Me: “Wait, I found one. And it’s at a mansion.” [DISCLAIMER: This is not normal for me. It ranks in my top three coolest looking/douchiest sounding moments ever.]

At the mansion, we realize we’ve beaten the hosts. Nick, who woke up long enough to get into the cab and then out of it once we arrived, has fallen asleep in the yard. Dave and I explore the grounds.

Dave: “Is that a bocce ball court?”
Me: “I think it’s a pool. It’s just covered”
Dave: “Definitely a f—ing bocce ball court. I’m going to step on it.”

Dave narrowly misses falling into what is most definitely a covered pool.

Dave: “That is a f—ing pool.”

The hosts arrive home.

Dave: Hello. I’m Dave. Do you happen to have sandwich materials here?
Female Host: “I believe so. Why do-

We make and consume sandwiches for approximately one hour. This is less of a house party and more of an after-party… if after parties were just “build-your-own” sandwich bars. And – let’s be honest – they should be.

Me: Hold on. Where’s Nick?
Dave: I have no idea. Have you tasted this pepperoni!? It’s f—ing delicious!
(He turns to the hosts)
Dave: This is very good pepperoni!

I search for Nick. With two floors, eight bedrooms, a private theater, and multiple offices, this is no easy feat (Let me also mention that this house was the scene for my “Must Love Dogs” article. I have no idea why I keep getting invited back).

After twenty minutes of searching, I find Nick asleep on the hardwood floor of an important-looking office filled with equally important-looking documents/equipment. We still don’t know how he got there. I move him to a bed before he can sleepwalk into anything expensive, and then retire myself.

In the morning, Nick has a near panic attack due to waking up in a mansion when he fell asleep at a bar. Also, he realizes, though his shorts are on, his boxers somehow made it downstairs. We still don’t know that story. As we leave, Dave tells me a secret.

Dave: I was looking for a vase all night. Probably a good thing there weren’t any.
Me: How come?
Dave: I thought it would be funny to take a shit in one.

~Don Julian

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