Get to Rufus's in Carlsbad (San Diego) last Tuesday. Some of this has already been mentioned in the previous post, but I was so high (on life) when I wrote it, I thought it deserved a few more details here and there. Flight out sucks, but the thought of his beautiful face greeting me at the airport is what keeps me going. That night we go to the Stone Brewery in Escondido or Encinitas (I can't remember); we don't manage to get on a tour, but we settle for dinner and beer outside. Romantic. A little later, feeling buzzed, Rufus tells me he's never been to the bar Hensley's, owned by a member of the Flogging Molly's, and which is literally a half-mile from his house. We go. It's a strange vibe, but one we are feeling. We play darts and I almost take his ass down by racking up huge sums of blends, which is unusual, but he mounts the unlikeliest of comebacks, and claims glory. Bar patrons look at us as if we are aliens for playing darts (there are six boards, fuck you people). We maybe have three beers, then sit down near a table of cougars. It is approximately 10pm, and Rufus goes to the bathroom while I sit at the table and check my bberry for ESPN updates. A 300lb bouncer named Jesus (HAY-ZEUS) comes over to me and asks me to step outside. HE tells ME that I was sleeping, and consequently must leave the bar. WHAT A FUCKING IDIOT! I was just checking scores on my phone, bro. When Rufus learns what has happened, he joins us outside and I think he is going to lay a punch on our grande Mexican Mambo Jambo over here, his face being two inches away from the bouncer's. Rufus tells him it is last night working at Hensley's, then proceeds to re-enter the bar and tell the bartender he is sorry, but he will not be paying for his drinks, and, with rage, crushes his own credit card like the Incredible Hulk. Bye-bye Hensley's. I'm in California less than twelve hours and we are ejected from a bar. Count it!
Fast forward a couple of days to New Year's Eve in LA, a la casa de Horchata. Una casa muy bonita. It is a nice party. Her parents were gracious enough to leave us the house to ourselves while they checked in to a hotel for the evening. I smell trouble. Alas, everyone was way too well behaved. I guess we are twenty-one and twenty-two-year olds, but we still should have broken more stuff (just kidding!). There were many French kids, acting quite strange in the early hours of the evening. We thought a) they are just French, b) they are lame, or c) both. HOWEVER! it was discovered they had all eaten chocolate mushrooms, and found Horchata's Christmas tree to be a source of great entertainment throughout the night. Give respect where respect is due. It was a funny night - we played one of the greatest games of King's ever. Perhaps a picture or two will one day surface. After another night in LA, it was back to San Diego to relax and recover before our five-hour drive to Las Vegas Monday morning...
A preview of the second installment of this entry, in which Vegas will be delved into, in length:
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