on the day before thanksgiving

we were antsy all day last wednesday, the day before thanksgiving.

a few of our co-workers who've been at the office longer than others of us had been telling us for days, weeks, now that the bosses always ended up letting us leave work early, by around noon, on the day before thanksgiving and also the day before christmas. it was to be a sort of gift of kindness and benevolence. so we were all looking forward for this rare opportunity to have the big wigs' blessing to call it a day and start playing hooky as soon as the lunch-hour hit.

but it came in waves. depending on the work load of each unit, some supervisors were kindly enough to give their underlings the green light to go home for the day right at noon sharp. others were let out at 12:15 p.m. -- and then still others were dismissed at 12:30 p.m. nonetheless, it was clear that the exodus had begun, slowly but surely, and that some people had nice, cool bosses.

and then there were others, like me, whose boss had left for lunch at 11 a.m. and even by 1 p.m. had not yet returned.

it was okay. i was distracted. i was in the midst of a busy assignment. for my immediate boss and me, the workload just never ends.

but as the minutes inched along, even i was starting to get particularly antsy. it's hard to concentrate on work when you know you won't have to actually work all day. but it wasn't my boss who was holding up things. he was there and treating the day just like any other laboriously long work-day. but it was his boss who was the one who had gone on a two-hour lunch; and it was he whose blessing the rest of us under him were waiting for.

ultimately, he did arrive back at the office and gave his blessing, and by 1:15 p.m., everyone in my unit -- all three of us -- were free to go home. we were the last of the underlings to leave out of the office.

the three of us included me, dimples, and another girl who makes up our trio whom i'll call nymph. nymph is five years younger than me.

dimples has been going through a rough patch. it had been my idea that the three of us go to lunch as soon as we got off work that day and just hang out until dimples had to pick up her daughter from daycare. dimples then said she wanted to get some drinks, too. i was open to the idea as was nymph, and that became the plan: to get inebriated and have fun.

so we set off in search of a pub.

and yes, it was only just past 1 in the afternoon.

but hey, as hard-working scrubs, we deserve it.

we drove over in my car to a pub downtown, ordered a bunch of appetizers to share between us, and ordered drinks -- some cider for nymph, a pint of sierra nevada for dimples, and a cosmo for me.

we were there for only a couple of hours before we decided to move on to another place, this time a real hole-in-the-wall dive bar just a few minutes' drive away. it's the type of place where you can get really cheap beer on tap. the three of us went with a pitcher of pabst blue ribbon to share between us. it cost only $ 6 for the pitcher. totally cheap! and it was to be the only money we'd have to fork out there; although the place wasn't crowded, there were quite a few blue-collar guys who also got off work early, and they were happy to introduce themselves to us and buy us a couple more rounds.

there was one construction guy who seemed to be particularly keen on me. nymph and i had gotten up to take a look at the old jukebox standing near our booth and find some tunes to play. before i could drop some quarters into the slot, i heard a loud ruckus of men yelling and calling out. i didn't realize they were yelling at us until a tall, older blond man with a face ruddy from the sun and wind came lumbering over. he had his large fistextended to us, and i heard the change clanging in his hand as he came over.

"allow me," he said.

i doth tried to protest, but he wouldn't have it. and he proceeded to put what seemed like a river of quarters into the jukebox.

"just pick whatever songs you want," he insisted.

so nymph and i did so. she picked out a james brown tune and a police song, but because she didn't know most of the artists available on the machine, i ended up picking most of the songs. some selections i remember making were kiss' "detroit rock city," metallica's "one," something from the cure, and other classic rock songs.

dive bars are just totally my scene. i love going clubbing, and i love hitting the trendy bars and pubs. but at heart, i'm a dive bar affiant. i love the peeling walls, the haphazard decorations, the characters who come out to hang out such places, and the old rock music that the jukeboxes play.

seriously. i'm a passive, obedient azngirl by day, and a white azngrrl by night.

as each of the songs i chose played, it seemed to make the blond construction guy fall in love with me even more. it surprised him that i was a fan of kiss and metallica. i guess i don't seem like the type. but he was such a nice guy. and he insisted on buying us our next pitcher of beer. the beer irritated my throat; i've been trying to get over a cough for the past few weeks lately, and the drinking started to make me hack.

"you okay? got anymore coughdrops?" dimples asked me sympathetically.

i shook my head "no" as i tried to get my coughing fit under control.

"i'll look for some," the blond construction guy said. "i'll ask the bartender."

i managed to get my cough under control by the time the blond construction guy returned to our table (yeah, at some point, he managed to invite himself to a seat at our booth). i was surprised when i heard him say, "i found you some cough drops!"

eyebrows raised in surprised, i turned to look at him -- and saw him carrying five or six shots of jager.

we laughed. it was fucking hilarious. but nymph politely refused to drink one; she's a goody-two-shoes, she is. dimples refused, too -- but i think she did so as much because she was started to feel really drunk as she did out of principle: i think she would rather not let a guy buy her a drink, period.

as for me, i hemmed and hawed about it for a few seconds. i wanted to take the shot, but my conscience was telling me not to, since i was d.d. and all.

ultimately, though, i decided, after a few quick seconds of thinking things over, that it would be really, very rude if not even one of the three of us had a shot. so i figured what the hell. and i picked up a shot.

the construction guy called the rest of his compatriots over to grab the other shots. i then raised my shot glass in a toast with them, then tilted the glass so that i could swallow it down.

yummy.

the cough drop burned a hole down my throat into my tummy.

the guys started guffawing at me as i put my glass down on the table. but they loved it. i smiled in satisfaction at them. dimples seemed to be enjoying it, too -- enjoying watching me interact with the guys.

hey. i was only taking a shot for the team.

:)

dimples was giving me a look, though. nymph knows i'm gay, too. so dimples said aloud to her, "i think abbagirl likes guys after all."

i gave dimples a look of mock chagrin. "no," i said emphatically. "i just like free drinks." i gave her a wink.

she grinned at me.

we finally left after a while. we snuck out through a side door when the construction guys, including the blond one, went out for a smoke. i felt bad about that; they were nice. but the three of us also wanted to be able to leave without any fuss.

we walked back to my car. and yes, i was totally fine to drive, despite having had a cosmo, two or three pints of pabst, and a shot of jager. and nymph suggested we go hang out at her place. her boyfriend, with whom she lived, was already home, and it would just be the four of us.

by the time we arrived at nymph's house, it was obvious that dimples was totally shit-faced. the alcohol seemed to hit her rather suddenly. nymph's boyfriend was playing guitar hero when we got to their apartment. i eagerly joined in.

i love guitar hero!

when we tired of that, nymph's boyfriend put in a dvd from the dave chappell show. we watched some hilarious skits. the lights were off, with the only light coming from the television screen. in the living room, there are two loveseats. nymph and her boyfriend lay cuddled together on one loveseat, and dimples and i sat on the other. at first, dimples and i sat at a polite distance. but as time wore on, she began inching closer to me. until finally, she was laying on me, her head on my shoulder, and i had my right arm around her.

she was totally fucked up. wasted. i didn't want to make too much of it. i was just another warm body. if it wasn't my body that she was leaning against at that moment in time, it would be someone else.

but in the darkness, where nymph and her boyfriend couldn't see, i felt her hand. it fluttered here and there. the touches began as fleetingly light, incidental caresses. but when i didn't pull away or protest, they began getting a bit more confident and purposeful yet affectionate.

"dimples," i wondered in my somewhat buzzed yet still coherent and rational state to myself. "dimples, what are you doing?"

to be continued. . . .