Sunday, March 4, 2018

No Beer, Just Coffee, Please

I learned some time ago, for the umpteenth time, that I can no longer drink alcohol. One beer turns me into a zombie. Two or three make me feel ill for most of the next day. In short, alcohol spoils the fun I had intended to have when I decided to go out and drink. Nonetheless, there are those occasions when one just feels like going out at night and doing something. So it was with last night. I had taken a walk on the beach and, returning to my bike, I just didn't feel tired or like going home. So I went up to Casablanca to enjoy some music, determining to just order coffee instead of beer. And it worked out quite well. I mean, it wasn't the night of the century or anything, but I remained conscious and fully human rather than zombioid and enjoyed just sipping a Bali coffee. Actually, two. It is a good thing to divorce the idea of enjoyment from the idea of drinking alcohol. 

When I go to Casablanca, I like to park my bike down by Starbucks and walk up, in order to avoid the mash of bikes in front of the club. The trouble is, my balance is such that even without a drop of alcohol, I still stumble and swerve, especially on broken or uneven sidewalks. I am certain, therefore, that to others I must look like I've had a snoot-full. There goes another of them drunk bules, right? 

Of course, on the walk back to the bike, one will meet two or three girls offering a massage. Gee, massages sure are popular here, aren't they? 

Once back to the bike, it's safe sailing from there on--for the wheels of the bike do much better in travel than my feet. 

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