I Cannot Be Trusted in Public

I went on my little trip to Ohio for the wedding. See previous blog. When I got there, my daughter and her fiance took me to this international festival that they have in Dayton every year. We were there for about 2 hours and then they had to go “work” their volunteer shifts. I wandered around for about 30 minutes after they started working, but quickly got bored with seeing the same things over and over again.  I mean, you can only walk past a virgin Piña Colada so many times before you convince yourself that you are in dire need of hard liquor. I decided it was time for a mission. I left the convention center that was conveniently located downtown on a mission for vodka. I walked halfway down the street and found nothing so I turned back and headed the other way. As luck would have it, there was a busker (street musician) playing a guitar so I tipped him and asked him to stop playing. In hindsight, that was probably really rude, but he humored me and took a break to talk to me.  He pointed me in the direction of the bars. “Down three blocks, under the railroad bridge to the cobblestone road.” When I told my friend, she asked me if I asked for directions to the bar or the wizard. I assured her the bar and he was, in fact, spot on. Just to be sure, I asked a local valet where the closest place was for a drink and then I added, also, single straight men, because I have been mistaken as batting for the other team at times, and I was about 90% sure he was too, so I just wanted to end up in the right spot, ya know?

He pointed me in the direction of the bar. I walked in to an alternate universe. It was the most bizarre, inclusive, beautiful little place, ever! It was called Blind Bob’s. I wasn’t sure what was going on because there were young people, old people,  gay people, straight people, white people, non-white people, hip hop people, redneck looking people and everyone was getting along. There were no fights, no dirty looks, no wierd stares, not even at me, the girl who walked in alone with a henna tattoo on one hand and a collection of drinking and admission bands on the other with a kavu bag slung over her shoulder while wearing a girly sundress. I’m sure I was also quite a sight. I should also mention that I had been driving in the sun and heat all day. I did not shower before we left to go out.  Also, my “natural” deodorant doesn’t usually last all day, so I cover it up with patchouli essential oil (insert maniacal laugh here).  My point is, Blind Bob, was indeed blind. Maybe that’s why it’s called Blind Bob’s. Maybe they want everyone to feel comfortable?!  It worked. I felt so comfortable that I was able to drink my usual, double shot of vodka chilled and ice water with extra lemons, with no question to my safety or welfare. I did not have one negative vibe that I would be raped and pillaged by the end of the night. Not that it would have mattered by the end of the night anyway, because after two double shots and a few liquid marijuanas, I was offering to lick people’s faces and handing out my number like it was a free concert flyer.  Luckily, prior to my overindulgence, I sent the girls my whereabouts so they could come pour me into an Uber later. They did…. after taking me to a few more bars just to be sure I had a great time. Then, we got home and my daughter and I  went swimming in 53 degree weather….in our underwear.

I will never deny that I am quite a good time with vodka involved, but it is usually wise for me to stop after the 4th shot or the 2nd double shot before things go downhill or maybe they go uphill, in a roller-coaster fashion, and I cannot be trusted in public.

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