You Stay Classy, Barney

I know what you need (You mean besides regular postings to this? These sporadic episodes just aren’t getting it done), it’s a crazy Barney drinking story. Friday night, LA and I went out for “a few drinks” at happy hour. As it usually occurs with me, “a few drinks” turns into a full night. We started out on the patio, and gradually the rest of the people there ended up leaving (probably because it was raining). Not that we noticed it because we were pretty trashed. Somewhere around midnight, a wedding party stopped by the bar. And being that the patio was the only place that could sit 15 people together, they joined us. We started drinking with them. After an hour or so, they were heading back to their hotel, a short walk from the bar, and for whatever reason, invited us. Not being ones to turn down free alcohol, we proceeded to the said hotel.

Now keep in mind, we know absolutely no one in this group. There wasn’t even a highly entertaining person in this group. We got invited and didn’t ask questions. The first thing that occurred when we got to the hotel, was the groom wanted to make a speech. He was unable to find the bottle of champagne he had saved for the occasion. Me, being the gentleman that I am, agreed to help him look for it. It wasn’t in the first fridge, but I was able to find a second fridge that had the bottle in it. Unfortunately, I took the refrigerator out of the wall in order to do so. So that Marriot might need to get another refrigerator because I do not have the basic manually dexterity to do the complex job of opening a refrigerator door.

Undeterred by this, the groom made his speech. He then passed the champagne bottle around to his friends who said what they had to say, and then passed it on to the next one. It somehow was given to me (don’t ask me why this group had allowed me to stay up until this point), I then proceeded to give my true feelings for this moment. “I don’t know any of you, but you seem like good people, so congratulations. And thanks for the alcohol.” (Commence taking ginormous slug of champagne). You stay classy, Barney.

I ended up crashing around 4 in the morning. This wouldn’t be bad if I didn’t have to be up at 8 to go to work. Not just the normal, “Barney’s the only one working on a weekend” stuff, but the two most important clients would be there this weekend. I roll out of bed at 8:15, head right to the bathroom and puke some water up. Not only that, I somehow get a bloody nose, so I’m dripping blood as well (I swear I’m not doing coke). I take a quick shower. Even classier, I never made it home the night before, so I’ll have to wear the same clothes I wore the day before. Me being the bright one that I am, I decide that I might be able to fool people if I change my shirt. So the best choice was one of the free t-shirts the Wizards gave to everyone at one of their playoff games (this was a decidedly better choice than my first selection: an undersized field hockey t-shirt that apparently had a rip in it and a picture of a girl on the back (not that my drunk ass noticed). Now that would have been a great way to show up to work.) So I roll up to work at 9 with a free t-shirt on, unshaven, and with another shirt in my hand. I must have been the picture of professionalism. Oh, and I was still drunk. I still had a buzz until noon. Can someone please explain to me how I not only still have a job, but I’m actually good at what I do? If you can, I’d appreciate it.