Alcohol is a wonderful drug of sorts.
Kind of like that line from the “Dave Chappell” show on Comedy Central.
They show skits recreating the wilder moments in Charlie Murphy’s (Eddie Murphy’s brother) memories of partying with an out of control Rick James in the 80’s.
It shows all sort of vile happenings then they go to Rick James for commentary, he denies it, then a half second later, he admits to it.
And then for an explanation, they go to his quote of “Cocaine is a hell of a drug.”
Alcohol is the same thing sometimes.
Absolutely obscene behavior goes on once the vino starts flowing.
And tequila, and vodka, and jagermeister…etc.
We are at the beach.
I am sober, but have spent the last 30 minutes trying to play badminton in a high wind. (Bad idea, but lots of fun with the right company.)
However, the brightly t-shirted mob making their way down the bike path next to the sand is barely keeping it together.
Its an even mix of men and women, various sizes and ethnicity, but sharing one critical thing.
They are all shit faced drunk.
Not “Tipsy” or “Feeling it”, but one member faceplanting into the ground and the rest laughing their asses off type shit-faced.
Their bright neon yellow shirts proclaim that they are aerospace employees on the annual Defence contractors pub crawl.
For those not in the know, (Like I am), a pub crawl is like a mobile riot that is semi sanctioned by the local businesses. (Mainly bars, but the restaurants hope they will buy food at some point.)
The police do not love these people, but they tolerate them.
Not as much as the cops in Vegas or Reno, but close. (In Vegas and Reno, they will simply remove you from the bad place you are and reinsert back into play back at your home casino. Don’t tell me no, I have had it happen to me.)
The mob has to pee.
I know this because, due to some construction going on at the beach bathrooms, there are 4 port a johns on the sand.
The moment the mob saw them, a howl of sorts went up, like a wolf pack that scented fresh blood.
Several broke into a run for them.
One severly inebriated asian woman was at a high sprint when she contacted the three foot high wall separating the bike path from the sand.
I am not sure what her plans were, hopping over the wall or what, but she did a painful looking full flip over the half wall and landed face first in the sand.
1 down, 9 more to go.
The next victim splatted into the door of the porta while trying to get the door open.
It looked painful, but there was no way to tell as the guy landed on his ass, wedged the door open and crawled in.
The other portas were filled without further casualties.
The asian woman crawled off of the sand and got to her feet, staggering over to a bench with blood and sand staining her ugly neon shirt.
It was then that one of the occupants of a porta, not sure which, began to vomit.
I was 50 feet away and I could hear that poor bastard retching clearly.
It was like watching a man on tv getting kicked in the nuts, you felt sympathy pain for him, self induced though it may be.
The pub crawl mob was heartless.
They surrounded and began pounding on the porta, yelling.
You never want to make any sudden moves that might draw the attention of this type of mob, they can turn on you in a heartbeat.
The bout of vomiting was a short one, thankfully, as the vomiteer exited the porta to the cheers of his coworkers.
And then they set off, presumably to the next bar.
God help us all, these people are building F-16’s.