Things I’ve learned while killing brain cells

These are the things I’ve learned by going out in Boston the past couple of weeks, but first, an anecdote:

A pretty girl was standing in line to get into a bar and the guy in front of her starts chatting her up. She was out of his league but nobody ever told him that before because he thought he was God’s gift to women, wrapped in a North Face fleece (and instead of a bow on top, there was a really big nose). And by chatting her up, I mean he spoke nonstop for about five minutes. I would place her facial expression somewhere between “disinterested” and “I want to give this guy a puncture wound with my apartment key." She was polite and listened the whole time this asshole talked about what bars and clubs in Boston were fun (none of them, apparently), what bars/clubs are busy (everywhere is dead), and where his favorite places to eat are (and by favorite, he means the places that suck the least). He is an authority on Boston because he has lived here for almost four years. Finally, he asks her a question that he did not answer himself (something else that he did several times).

BigNose: So, where are you from?
PrettyGirl: Boston.
BigNose: (Condescendingly) No, I mean originally.
PrettyGirl: Boston.
Me: (Not even trying to control my laughter)

BigNose sheepishly dismissed himself after taking what I’m almost positive was a fake phone call from his iPhone. Apparently, he was going somewhere cooler, with more people, where he knew a guy so he didn’t have to wait in line. PrettyGirl was very easy to talk to after that. Thank you, BigNose, wherever you are. On to the lessons:

1. Some people would describe five men consuming two bottles of Ketel One, several beers, and a few nips in the hour before they go out as “problem drinking.” I call it “fiscally responsible.”

2. If you’re ever on your way to the bathroom and someone stops you and says, “Don’t go in there, there’s a fight.” You should at least crack the door and see if the people fighting are your friends. If you don’t and your friends are in there, you will feel bad for several days that you stood four feet away from them oblivious to their struggle.

3. Girls have absolutely no idea how much they are able to drink. I don’t even think it’s their fault. I have female friends who I have seen hammered off of three drinks and other nights they could drive home after twelve. That being said girls, the nights that the booze sneaks up on you, don’t wander around the bar with your bra hanging out repeating, “I don’t know how I got this drunk…” You know damn well how, in fact that was your goal for the evening. Job well done, now shut up and fix your shirt.

4. The recipe to get me to dance my best (or at least my very hardest) = three shots of Jameson + two Coors Lights + Jackson 5. Seriously, go find a piece of rug at the Bell in Hand. You can’t, I cut it all up.

5. It is surprisingly easy to pee right in the middle of Faneuil Hall.

6. Always check to see if the party bus outside the bar is available to drive you and your friends home for five dollars each. It could be the best part of your night. I momentarily put aside my hatred for Lady Gaga and rocked out while looking under the seats for left over beer.

7. Someone bumped into my friend Matt and I thought it was a good idea to follow him around the entire bar while fist pumping. He never saw me. I’m like a Guido ninja.

8. Inevitably, when you give the coat check girl a good tip to take care of your expensive jacket, the girl who gives your jacket back at the end of the night will be a completely different girl. You will think about explaining you gave generously on the way in but instead you will sheepishly drop two more dollars in the tip bucket instead.

9. Apparently, hitting on a guy’s girlfriend in front of him can be easily smoothed over by complimenting his sweater.

10. And finally, when you are wearing the same shirt as a guy at a bar, he will not think it’s funny if you stand next to him and mimic his exact movements. Especially when the girl he is dancing with (who has her bra hanging out) gets confused and starts grinding with you instead.