It’s after 9PM on a random Saturday night, when all the kiddies are fast asleep. Clear skies, comfortable temperatures, and no chance of rain. The “Is the bar open tonight?” text messages start flying: Wookie texts G-LO, G-LO texts The ROK, The ROK texts Limpd, and so on. By 10PM, we’re gathered round the fire, or at the very least a patio table, and we’ve each brought our beverage of choice. These gatherings follow a simple formula: we drink, we talk, we eat, we break balls.
The night is moving along at a leisurely pace and our conversations hit all of the usual topics, i.e. whisky, beer, movies, sports, kids, food, work, money, women, etc.. Every so often, one of us checks the time. It feels as if time has slowed down, and that the weekend will never end. This is a good thing by the way.
But then something strange happens. Once we get past midnight, it feels like someone hit the fast forward button and won’t let go!
12AM…
12:30…
1:05…
Holy crap it’s 2AM! This is usually when we pack it in because those little kiddies will be up again before we know it, and they’ll demand our undivided attention. Apparently, time really does fly when you’re having fun!
Does this ever happen to you? Tell us what happens when you gather around the fire.
Categories: Booze Banter
This is proof the Scots invented Time Travel and it requires a good single malt at 48% ABV not a flux capacitor and a Delorean at 88 MPH. According to The Macallan ambassador the Scots also invented the TV, the telephone, golf, and … FREEDOM!
Also for the record you left out “Crazy Eye” in the “bar’s open” texting circle. Though he has been known to experience the time paradox through closed eyelids ….. this hasn’t happened recently since I threatened to give him the Sharpe Marker Mustache treatment if he falls asleep again.
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The Scots are a crafty lot! They also invented battered and fried twinkies. Or was that the English???
And I didn’t forget Sir Crazy Eye. He was covered by the “and so on” since we do occasionally have guest “booze dancers” around the fire, i.e. the aforementioned C.E., Soccer Stan, Professor Dom, Crotch Rocket Keith, Papa Steve, The Alemonger, and The Rick (but only on every third blue moon, and only during every other Leap Year).
Slainte!
G-LO
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Boy oh boy does time fly, whether around the fire with fine friends and beverages or down in the Twilight Lounge. There was one member of our circle that has become immortalized by the term the “Curtis Shuffle”. At some point, after too much consumption and time, Curtis would excuse himself to use the restroom, and then never return. Now, whenever someone mysteriously disappears from a party they have shuffled.
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Too funny! I’m sure every drinking “society” has a similar story. Our biggest concern is getting too comfortable around the fire and falling asleep. The penalty for falling asleep is the dreaded Sharpie marker and a Snidley Whiplash mustache. Has yet to be implemented.
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