Last weekend I drove out to Dripping Springs for my buddy Sean’s 30th birthday party. Sean used to work with me before he moved to a better job. On the weekends, when he’s not a systems analyst, Sean is flying across the country on someone else’s dollar to play softball. The party was full of other semi-pro softball players, youth football coaches and screaming wives and kids.
I suspected the wives and kids would be the fun police, but it turned out to be just the opposite. An 8 year old made me a vodka tonic that would knock out David Hasselhof and the over-under for Sean’s wife passing out was 10pm. She passed out on the counter at 10:20. Right before her head hit the linoleum we had a moment. She was sluring so badly even a Denny’s waitress wouldn’t be able to understand her, “I’m glaaaad you came,” she said. Unfortunately, she was zombie drunk and hit me in the mouth when she tried to hug me.
One mildly sober woman was juggling a wineglass and a knife, trying to cut the cake. The kids lined up like ducklings and as the first kid got her cake, Sean's brother Kevin swooped in and grabbed it right off the plate. He lost his balance, fell onto the counter, and then spun acrobatically into the cake. The little girl glared at Kevin, now frosted and on the floor and called him a mean drunk. The cake dispenser put her knife on the counter and pulled down Kevin’s pants with help from the line of kids.
Once he got his pants back on, Kevin walked towards the door hunched up like a clown ridding a tiny bike and passed out in peace outside. I stepped over him on my way home.
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