“Guys, we have to go get George.”
Dale and Austin looked at me like I was crazy. After all, he just went to the bathroom and their spot at the bar was on the way to the only regular exit in the joint. We had been hanging out and drinking with George for the most of the night for his 21st birthday. He has specifically asked to come and party in Austin. I kind of thought that the night was a bust up until this point because George did not appear to be getting drunk at all.
Then he said he needed to go to the bathroom and as he started to move he looked like your stereotypical movie drunk, you know swaying side to side I’m sure if he had stopped long enough to talk he would have spoken slurred with hiccups between every few words. Because that’s how people get drunk in movies. Or at least old movies. As he staggered off, I saw him go in the totally wrong direction for the bathroom so I started after him to point him in the right direction. By the time I had caught up with him he had gone through a door at the back of the bar. This happened to be an employees only section of the bar. As I went through the door I saw two employees trying to figure out what to do with him. I tried to intervene.
“George! George! What are you doing? The bathroom’s over here!” George looked at me with bleary eyes, straddling that border of comprehension, “Come on George!”
George started towards me and right before he got to the point where I could escort him out of the restricted area and to the bathroom he took a turn down a side hallway, “No George, it’s this way. Come on. This way George!” You might be reading this and think that I sounded like I was coaxing a dog to follow me out of the house or something. Without context, I’m sure it might have. I’ve found that talking to the extremely drunk (myself included) works best when you treat them like a beloved family pet. You like them, but boy does it piss you off when they pee or puke on your carpet.
George finally turned around and got going the right direction but when he finally came up to me, one of the employees said, “That’s enough, he’s out of here.”
“That’s fine by me, I think he needs to go home now anyways. We’ll just head out.”
He looked at me like he thought I was trying to pull one over on him and said, “No, he has to go out the back. He can’t go out the front door.”
“That’s ok too. I’ll just go out the back with him.”
“No, you can’t go out the back.”
Now I was getting a little confused, and I know I hadn’t had THAT much to drink, “Wait a minute. You’re telling me that he’s too drunk to stay in your bar, but that he’s sober enough to be kicked out into your alley with no one to help him?”
“That’s the rules man.”
“Well fuck that, I’m going with him or he’s coming with me out the front door.”
At this, the guy I was talking to made a finger gesture in the air towards me. I wasn’t sure what he was doing until a few moments later this mountain of a human being came up and asked if there was a problem. I responded, “Hell yeah there’s a problem. These asshats are kicking my friend out and they won’t let me go with him to ensure he doesn’t get himself killed in your alleyway.”
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Fine, I’ll go out the back door with him.”
“I can’t allow that.”
Realizing that my only options were to get my ass kicked by the walking Everest or to try and catch up with George by running around the building, I ran back to my friends who were now looking at me like I was crazy. I quickly explained what had happened to them and we ran out of the bar. We split up to go opposite directions around the building so that hopefully we wouldn’t miss him one way. But as it turns out, drunk George was a lot faster than I thought he would be. By the time we got to the back, he was gone.
It’s never a good thing to be really trashed and lost, but to be really trashed and lost in a city that you don’t live in is really not good. We started calling George and got ahold of him after a couple of calls.
“George, where are you?” He answered but it was so loud on the street that I couldn’t hear so I asked again, “I couldn’t hear you man, where are you. Try to speak up?”
“I’m where are the bitches are at!”
Assuming that he wandered back to 6th Street, we headed back to the intersection that the bar was near, “You’re where the bitches are at? Can you raise your hands in the air?”
“Like I don’t care?”
“Yeah, raise your hands in the air like you don’t care.”
We waited for a minute and didn’t see anyone around us doing this so we tried something different, “Hey, check in on Loopt! Then we can figure out where you are.”
He had a few difficulties getting into the app and figuring out in his drunken haze how to do it, but eventually he checked in and we discovered that he had managed to walk about three blocks from where we were.
“Stay there George, don’t move a foot.”
“Don’t worry man, I’m gonna stay where the bitches are at!”
We ran as fast as we could and found George at a fairly deserted intersection. If this was where all the bitches were at, they were invisible. We hailed a cab and started to make the trip home.
Along the way, I guess that George decided that he was going to be flirty. A few seconds after the cab driver, Becky, told us her name George started saying, “Hey Becky, what’s your name Becky?” He repeatedly asked her and the first few times she actually answered that her name was Becky. After that she just stopped paying attention.
Becky was fairly good natured about the whole thing and only got angry when it looked like George might throw up in her cab. Other than George singing a variety of rap songs on the way to the house, the rest of the night was fairly uneventful. I really wanted to see if we could get some app company to sponsor our night for being able to find your friends when they have been kicked out of the back of a bar and are drunk and you can’t find them. I guess the use case was a little too specific though.