As we speed down the turnpike between Grand Lake and Tulsa passing around a bottle of Captain, I wondered if I would make it home alive. This thought had passed through my mind many a time since Thursday.
My elder brother flew into to town from DC. This, of course, means that my eldest brother must pack six months worth of partying into one weekend. I generally just drink at home and pass out at reasonable time (2ish). My brothers are more of the party till 6 in the (6 in the) morn type. I usually only see my brother three times a year: Christmas, OU/Texas and once a year I invade the greater DC area. For this reason, I was willing to sacrifice my sanity. Thursday should be fairly mellow, just me and the eldest doing some pre-celebration. Besides, we have to pick up the middle brother at 10 the next morning. How late could we possible stay out?
Thursday night started out fairly mellow. A few beers and a few shots at Empire (probably the best bar in Tulsa btw). The beer was from a new Tulsa brewery, Marshall's. It was a nice IPA, but I digress. We had a few more beers and a few more shots. And a few more...you get the idea.
Next, we stumbled across the street to the sardine can of dooshbaggery that is Gray Snail. Nothing like paying a $5 cover to swim through a sea of popped collars and Affliction shirts. I grabbed a Woodford Reserve on the rocks, while my brother downed his Grey Goose and Red Bull. I watch in awe as my eldest brother perfects the mating dance of the David DeAngelo disciple. I try to wing man for the eldest, deflect grenades and generally keep him out of trouble. The game ends around last call and we meander back to the eldest's apartment a half mile away.
I lay in the grass and my brother lays on the concrete (this seems like a good idea to our impaired brains), as the eldest attempts to find an after party. By now, it is after 2 am and my body is ready for sleep. A few minutes later, my brother finds after party number one. Quick sidebar, my eldest brother just got a jeep. He loves it dearly and drives it like a maniac. That plus drinking equals the first time I thought I was going to die. We screech and squeal our way to the first party. Actually, it was just a guy hanging out, drinking and watching a movie. We stay there and drink until we find a better party. After a quick pick me up, we are on the road. Again, I feared for my life.
We arrive at party number two and you can hear Tears for Fears blaring from the street. Apparently, everybody wants to rule the world. We stumble in and continue drinking our tasty Miller Lite. In the back room, Dire Straits is singing about money for nothing and chicks for free. It is eighties night on youtube. My eldest brother and his thirtysomething friends are reliving their youth. Around 4 am and halfway through Cherry Pie, the home owner kicks everyone out.
This seems like a good time to call it a night. It being 4 am and our brother's plane arriving in about 6 hours. But why do that, when you can invite the party back to the apartment. The next 2 hours is a haze of poker, women and Knob Creek. Around 6:30, I finally pass out on the coach. The party is still going strong and my brother is no where in sight. As my eyes closed, I prayed that I could get 3 and half good hours of sleep before my brothers plane arrived. My prayers went unanswered...
PART 2 will follow later this week.
