So it's funny that I am dragging all these reminiscences from the past out because yesterday my old drinking buddy calls me up and wants to go on a bar crawl. I had mentioned him before as he is my best friend since we were in grammar school and we were best man at each other's weddings. So he calls me to say that he and is wife are out this Friday night and hitting a couple of spots. She owns a boutique up in Park Slope but she had the day off. So they were going to work their way down to the store and if we could break away we would go out for dinner.
We had a reasonably busy Friday night so we couldn't slip out right away when they came by so we met up with them after we closed. We decided to meet at Mescal's the Mexican joint I have often mentioned that plays soccer or "12 Corazones" on the TV and Mexican Polka music. What's really great about it that they pour a heavy drink there especially since we spend so much dough there. They are wedged between two big time hipster dofous places so they get most of the neighborhood guys be they of whatever ethnic stripe. The snobby white people are in the hipster joints.
Anyway we get there and start ordering drinks and food and talking and laughing just like old times. At the bar are about five neighborhood guys knocking back tequila like it is going out of style. They are loud and crude and boisterous which is fine by me. But some of the other people eating there were looking over the shoulders askance at the goings on. I had recognized one of the guys as someone who sits a few rows in front of me at church every Sunday so I knew they were harmless. So it was all in fun.
Now my buddy is a funny guy. He hardly ever says anything as he lets his wife carry the conversational ball but he has a habit of saying something at the end of the night that gets us in a
fight. I had to take him to the hospital after he got busted in the mouth a few times. We were laughing and saying how we don't go out like this anymore and compiling a list of his greatest "Hits" so to speak. And then my wife noticed one of the guys at the bar. He had an i-pad jammed down the back of his pants in the crack of his ass. We had just taken out our i-pad to look at some photo's and they were talking about getting one and how expensive it was and how you had to take care of it. And this mook has it sticking out of his pants through the back of his barstool. It was pretty funny. We have a laugh and get back to what we are doing. We finish the meal and just keep ordering drinks as do the guys at the bar. The rest of the joint empties out. Three of the guys leave and church guy and I-pad mook go to the back terrace where they have outside seating. What we didn't know was that their wives were outside getting tanked. They come in to leave and one of the wives is holding up the other one who hits the floor about half way though the restaurant. They scoop her up and start to walk out the door. We are sitting in the open window seats at the very front of the joint. The last guy walking is I-pad guy. And my buddy turns to him and goes:
"What's in your crack?"
It wasn't like the commercial at all.
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