My Friend Paul

I just heard the worst story ever about my friend Paul and a recent run-in he had with the Commonwealth of Virginia. Being the social-life whore that he is, he foolishly agreed to attend the party of an ex-co-worker in Arlington, VA this past weekend. But even more foolishly, he attended this party after attending another party in the lovely and oh-so-convenient District of Columbia. This DC party - which Paul referred to as a "rager" - was filled with Paul's friends, most of them in his same age range and of his same ideology in regards to consuming alcoholic beverages. Which is - as much as you can, as fast as you can. Most of us, being selfish and unable to bring ourselves to travel across the Memorial/Wilson/Key bridge, would have stayed at the DC party and told our Virgina compatriots to have fun without us. However, as I mentioned above, Paul is a social-life whore who could not bring himself to miss out on what he expected to be a fun party. So, being of unsound (read: drunk) mind and body, Paul traveled on the metro to East Falls Church, AKA the end of the world.

Upon arrival at the home of the Virginia residents, Paul realized that this party was not a continuation of the rager he had been attending in the lovely and convenient District of Columbia. It was, in fact, a "demure" party. A "demur" party is one that consists of people 5+years older than Paul (who is 25); it is quiet and mellow and does not have the twenty-something staple "Livin' On A Prayer" playing at full blast in the background; people are drinking nice red wine in expensive glasses and not jungle juice from the beer bong; the conversations you may overhear are along the lines of "We just remodeled our kitchen" or "When is the baby due" or "Where did you get these delightful centerpieces" and not "Please don't throw up in the kitchen, the bathroom is right down the hall" or "I had to sit behind this family on the metro today and they had THREE KIDS!" or "Hey, can I light my cigarette with the candle on your coffee table?" Now, I am all for demure parties here and there, but this was not the mindset of Dear Paul. So you can imagine that when he burst into the party, drunk, obnxious and smelling like your drunk grandpa, people were not pleased. Except secretly, they were. He quickly became the life of the party, relegating guests with his tales of parties in "The City" and of life without mortage payments, baby diapers and a savings account.

But then it all went sour. Despite the demur tone of this party, Paul proceeded to drink himself into oblivion and promptly pass out on his ex-co-worker's couch. When he woke up the next morning, he realized he was hungover, dirty, stinky and could quite possibly throw up in the newly remodeled kitchen. So, he did what any hungover and desperate person would do - he started walking. Now, for those who don't know, the Commonwealth is not convenient like the District. There is not a metro/Starbucks combo on every street corner. You do not have to walk one city block to get somewhere. No, in the Commonwealth, there are only freeways, pikes (whatever those are) and parkways. Paul, forgetting this, proceeded to walk in one direction along a "street" called Columbia Pike, in search of the Pentagon City Metro Station, which some unkind person had told him was "close." After walking several minutes in one direction on Columbia Pike, Paul realized the only landmark he could see was the freeway. He runs into some bicyclers on the side of the road, and mistaking them for competent, intelligent people, asks them for directions to the nearest metro station. The bicyclers, who actually turned out to be completely helpless morons, pointed at the freeway. No, folks, Paul had not acquired a skateboard, Vespa or other form of motorized/wheeled transportation along the way. He was in fact still on foot. And hot, as it was approximately 500 degrees and humid.

5 miles of walking later, Paul finally reached not the East Falls Church (which he used to arrive at the demure party) or the Pentagon City (which he was wandering in search of), metro but in fact, the Ballston metro station. He departed the demure party at 9am and did not return to his home in Dupont Circle until 1:00pm - hungover, still stinky like your drunk grandpa, and swearing off The Commonwealth forever.


Blogger Matt said...

Oh yeah, I mean, I live in Roslyn/Court House but I don't like to go further into Virginia than that. I like the fact that I can actually walk into D.C. from where I live.

I know next to nothing about my new state. Who's the governor? I think he's some black guy.

10:37 AM  
Blogger Blesus107 said...

Not black. In fact,very White: http://www.governor.virginia.gov/
I,however, am Black and plan on running for governor just to make your life hell.

1:08 PM  
Blogger Kelly Taylor said...

Guvnah Blesus. Hot.

1:11 PM  

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