Saturday, April 22, 2006

Sweetheart! Please don't pee on my car!

Man, if I had a nickel for every time I've had to say that...

Last night Margie and I went out. I have to admit, I do miss the Corpus nightlife just a little. At least on weekends (on weeknights there wasn't one - most of the clubs are only open Friday and Saturday). As long as we avoided the ghetto-fabulous scene at Club 1/Club I (depending on which side of the sign you're looking at), we could hang out somewhere not too crowded, yet moderately happening; get a little dancing in; and (here's the important bit) we could always count on being the most attractive women in the place.

I love Austin, but I do benefit from a slightly smaller pond, if you know what I mean.

We started off our evening at Lala's, where no one gasped or swooned or dropped his drink on the floor at our arrival, had a couple of spicy Bloody Marys and some nachos, then left to grab a bottle of wine at HEB and drink it on her front porch. This ended up being very entertaining, because her neighbors were having a huge-ass fratty kegger. Apparently no one could see us on the dark porch, or they were (more likely) so drunk that they wouldn't have noticed us if we were lit up like a neon sign; so we had front-row seats to all the drama and excitement that extremely inebriated 20-year-olds can provide. Belligerent posturing; lovers' quarrels; angry negotiations over the car keys in groups where nobody had any business driving; the inexplicably combative game of drunken seduction; we were keenly watching and commenting, quite wittily I'm sure, on it all. It reminded me a little of MST3K.

But we knew we were in for trouble when the hostess shrilled out, "Omigod you guys! Do not pee in my yard!" I'm sure she meant they should go inside and use the toilet, but you know and I know that's completely impossible. Men love to pee outside anyway, even completely sober, even at their in-laws' house. Men have a strong inborn drive for outdoor urination. They can't help it. Throw in a bladder full of beer and a long line for the restroom, and you might as well try stopping Niagara Falls with a sharp reprimand.

So the chastened males moved their activities down to the next yard, Margie's; not fifteen feet in front of us, hosing down trees and bushes with abandon. Thank God the porch is elevated several feet, though at this point we were laughing so hard I'm surprised we didn't fall off it.

I did have to intervene (see post title) when some guy wandered around right on the other side of my car, parked in Margie's driveway. I felt bad, because he seemed really nice and terribly embarrassed; he assured me he'd only been peeing on the ground next to my car. Well, we can hope.

Margie is moving soon, hoping to get into a house with a couple of bandmates in San Marcos. I hope the place has a porch with a nice view.


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