The Hotdog Hideaway

The funny thing about business trips for me is that I party harder than I ever would at home. This week I think I drank more in Seattle than I did during any of my wildest weeks in college. I suppose that is nothing to be proud of, and I will state for the record that my actions certainly weren't. I didn't accidently drop the N bomb while jabbering with a black dude at the bar like a certain someone I work with did, but the things I did get credit for had made their rounds about the office like dube on Saturday night. Fortunately, the really sordid stuff didn't make it to the general public. A lot can happen after 14 cocktails, and a lot can be forgotten. Yikers.

So here's the week in review:

Sunday
This was only night I didn't get hammered. It also was the only night I would not be staying at the W. Z-tron was kind enough to let me crash on his couch. He had just gotten a nice condo over in Queen Anne and started working at a promising startup. He is a pretty happy dude so it was great to catch up. I slept like ass though.

Monday

The first day at the office was eye opening. I now am managing about eight contractors in India, many of whom I have never spoken with. The atmosphere up in the Seatle office for my team is that of exhaustion and tension. The people there are all good at what they do and some of them are great people, but the staffing situation is so bad and some of the mandates from upper management are so against the grain of reason that the air of smug pessimism is almost palpable. The week I was up there is the week before a major release so the energy was completely frenetic. They way people joke around sounds downright mean to the uninitiated, but I suppose that is how you have to be to be chipper when you are working a minimum of 50 hours a week. Gnarls. For lunch, Boss Man and Tuck took me to one of those Meat on a Sword places called Ipanema which was Atkins heaven. I could have grazed off of sizzling meats all day, but alas, after they had long stopped I figured it was time to wrap it up and get back to work.

That night I went to go see what can only be described as a nutbag rollercoaster ride of Giants game at Fox Sports Grill. A few years ago when this place first opened I really liked it here since they would play out of market games and had a really fresh décor, but now the place seems kinda run down and the service is average at best. Their single Kettle One drinks were $7, but three or four drinks later I learned doubles were $9. Fucked up, especially not knowing this and the bartender suggested I move back to singles since I was slowing down. It took them 20 minutes to get the game on for me, when before they got it right away. I had to ask the dense bartender several times to put it on and each time she asked me what game I was trying to get. She acted like she was so so very busy but there were maybe 6 people at the bar. Lame Assed. The game was a riot though. The G’s were ahead 7-0 and somehow managed to let the D-Backs get ahead 7-9. It was outrageous, but Sweeney slapped in a two run homer in the 8^th and Finley sac flied to get stubby legs in win the game 10-9. What a ride. I was really drunk and had been talking to some dude from Chicago’s ear off. I am sure you can picture it. That is if you know me. If you don't well, think of that drunk guy you know who talks the crap out of strangers at bars. That's me.

I ended up going straight to my room and getting to be reasonably early drinking two bottles of $6 water.

Tuesday

Head slightly splitting, dehydrated and the sun’s cheery rays are like daggers through my eyelids. I had taken som Excedrin in the middle of the night which helped me, but of course not enough water. I had some coffee and was surprisingly chipper in short time. Guns arrived today and immediately made plans for drinks after work. He was up for the realease and was soon exasperated by the stoneaged push process that he was learning as they did the dry run.

After another day of presentation heaven, Guns and I met up for a drink at the W bar which featured the most expensive Kettle One in the city. I met Von who was a contractor up from Oakland and exuded that non-FTE coolness. After only 2 drinks I was already ranting about how understaffing is killing our team and he seemed to be full agreement giving me his outside vendor agreeability. Guns and I hit the FSG again to catch the game and we proceeded to get rapidly shitfaced. We met this cool dude at the bar whom was looking to move to CA and was asking us info about SF. This was the guy Guns would come to insult within the hour. The G’s were sucking wind and we had long lost attention when I realized I didn’t have my wallet on me and lo and behold neither did Guns. I must have been pretty drunk because I agreed to take a cab back to the W to get it and then pay for the both of us. The bill was $160 and I paid in cash, and of course I forgot my receipt. I also managed to lose two credit cards at some point.

We went back to the W bar and proceeded to drink even more and were prattling on and on about Battlestar Galactica. I cringe at the thought of what anyone else in that bar must have thought of us. When I went back to my room I for reasons I don’t fully grasp, I ate a box of Oreos from the frigo bar. I am not sure why I did this and I had been doing so well with the Atkins I felt pretty disappointed in myself. I drunk dialed Clitty and went on and on about how cute the teddy bear from the frigo bar was. Seriously, what the hell? I managed to break the handset of the room phone literally in half and was amused by the fact that inside the handset was a rather substantial chunk of metal to make it feel less like a cheesy piece of plastic. The idea of this really amused me at the time while at the same time really bugged me, for it’s wanton wastefukness. I managed to do a reasonably good job of putting it back together. Hopefully I won’t see that on the bill next to the Oreos.

Wednesday

As one might expect from the events of the night prior, I was feeling a little torn up. I forgot that I had ordered breakfast the night before, and the W guy was a little confused when he knocked at the door and I asked him to “come back later”. By the way, 2 eggs, 2 sausages and 2 strips of bacon with milk and coffee is $45 delivered. Work again was 8 hours locked in a conference room, so I was productive as I could be. Boss man, Guns and I went to have drinks at this cool bar which was also a theatre called The Triple Door which would be a great place to see jazz I am sure. After a few drinks and explaining Boss Man how internet applications are supposed to be deployed in such a way that releases aren't extended adventures of self-flagulations, I noticed the woman who was working at the ticket counter was extremely alluring. I am pretty sure Clitty would agree. Something about how a woman can just move across a room can make all the difference from being a tart to being a siren. Plus, there were the tits. Yes, this is probably considerred gross objectification of women, but had Clitty been there it would have been acceptable her her to oggle. It's kind of like how a white guy can't use the N word and not come off sounding like a racist fucker, which makes rapping along with Jay Z tricky for people like me. And no I don't think anyone is buying the removing the "er" and replacing it "a" makes it any better. Yes it is their word. Don't try to fling it homeboy, but I dirgress.

Anyway, we hit Sport, (across the street from the Space Needle) to watch the game since somone in the office recommended. It is a GREAT sports bar and makes The Fox Sports Grille seem like a hole. Okay, maybe that is because it is. The FSG, even with all its cool decor, is falling into disrepair, piss-poor service and overcooked beef. Sport has a great layout, has your own TV at each booth, and has the PHATTEST lounge chairs by their big screens. While we were waiting for a table we had some drinks in the lounge and the waiter turned the Giants game on for us on the big screen so we had dinner there. The steak was perfectly prepared with a really unique and delicious spice rub, he got we extra aspargus (which was perfect by the way) in place of the spuds, and of course drinks were stiff. I will be going back there.

After that it was back to the W bar catching the tail end of some modeling/DJ event so the place was once again crawling with hot chicks and hipsters. Von was there and I met this other kooky cat who works at one of the big 5 and totally hates it and is trying his damnedest to get canned, but they won't. He even showed up at a client late in jeans and t-shirt smelling of last night's booze and they still gave him good reports. There was this other girl who I tried to talk to who acted like I was trying to steel her kidneys. The other guys said she was a total psycho and was constantly talking about her boyfriend who was supposed to come and each time she was calling him on her mobile phone she looked more and more desperate. The DJs were really good and actually pretty cool to hang with. Von was gone working over some other woman (he had apparently been having some good luck since he hit town, so I left him do his thing.) I actually had some work to do so I went back to the room and cracked open the laptop, but got immersed in some intense show on the Discover Channel interviewing all these soldiers in Iraq, all of which had strong opinions of what they were doing there, and it was very surprising how wildly they varied. I felt really bad for them because they were in harms way so often that they were numb to it. Even though it put the situation in the light that things were getting done, it was just plain sad.

Thursday

Today was getting a little tough geting out of bed. I had stopped drining before midnight thankfully, but the lack of hours was crushing. Coffee. Some herbal speed. More coffee. Atkins bar. Bleh. Today was my day presenting and I new when after I was speaking for just more the 30 minutes my mouth was dry as crepe paper (I mean crepe paper that hasn't gotten accidently moistened). I plowed through it was able to show the team how to do some important stuff. Not bad for completely winging it. The afternoon got a little distracted and people were getting a little caught up in worry about the good reason, and I tell you looking back, they should have just stayed home. They are good people trying to do a lot with a little, but the whole "yes it is all fucked up" and "no, we are not sure when we will be fixing it, but I do hope it is soon." Uhg.

That evening the medium sized boss Webby took us all out to Triple Door again which was a lot of shit talking about anything, pretty much. Webby is a ballbuster which I kind of like (figures) but he is still sizing me up I can tell. He sees me as high strung which I guess is why he put my as managing all the level 1 support contractors. He knows if shit gets fucky I will bitch about it. That part is true anyway. We hit The Brooklyn which I just love and ate my usual plate of oysters and a steak with roqufort cheese on it. Delicious as always. We all were pretty stewed and we talk techy smack and eventually the crowd was down to... you guessed it... me and Guns.

We wandered around looking for something to do and found this trendy bar on I 5th street I think. I have no idea what it was but it was really red in there with a big old dance floor and more seating in the back on a riser which could serve as a stage. The place was crawling with hipsters and hot lesbian looking woman - my favotire kind. We had a few drinks in the corner and some dude who was at a large table of mostly women came up to me as I was getting up to hit the bathroom if he could touch my ass. It was clearly some sort of bet with his table and for whatever reason or whatever level of alcolism I didn't immediately tell him to bugger off. He then said he'd get me a drink. Now, this is point where a brain is really supposed to put on the brakes and say "Hey, you are not going to let a man grope you for a drink." But of course, I did. The girls at the table were obviously pleased with his accomplishment, but on what grounds I have no idea. We wrapped it up and head back to the W.

Things got pretty blurry. Guns had left. I was talking to some woman with blond hair, bangs and for whatever reason she was interested in me. I have no idea how I had the capacity to hold a conversation and quite possibly I was not, but there I was. The next thing was even more ridiculous- I asked her if she wanted to have a drink in a more private setting and she said "yes" like she was saying "fianally". I should have been amazed. I should have been concerned. I should have had a clue. I should have remembered that I left my jacket on my chair.

In any case, there we were going to my room. Now, there was no way I was going to ever have sex with this woman, let's get that straight. As much as I flirt and maybe a little messing around maybe, I don't stick my dick in random women. Not any more anyway. In spite of C's open mindedness It just isn't what I want, or at least wanted at that time, to be completely fair. Realistically, even if that was my intent, I was a gelatinous mess and nothing would be going on in that department tonight no matter what I did. So here we are, in my room, listing to some tunes on the iPod, and make drinks from the accursed frigo bar. I sit next to her.

She says "so it's $200, okay?"

This is one of those moments when no matter how drunk you are, you brain pulls out this emrgency cell of sobriety for about 45 seconds - just enough so you don't either do something regretable, get hurt or get robbed. You, gentle reader, probably saw this a mile away, and as I type this I feel way more foolish than I did thinking about it afterwards. It was a testament to my density. Also, it was that point that I was made the realization that "yeah, that is why this woman is sitting on the bed in the room of a drunken buffoon. And I thought it was my charm." Then there was the trying to explain that I was confused and was not in need of her services, but thank you for your time and attention. Please don't be mad." I don't remember this part so well, except her saying "I'm a a working girl big guy" as I sat there agape. My explainations and stubbling words are probably best forgotten anyway. She did leave withouth too much fuss, but was obviously annoyed, but I think she was more laughing at my moronics, which was probably a good thing. I also avoided getting robbed or getting thrashed by a pimp. Bonus! May that be a lesson, Lit. If you are drunk at a hotel bar and morbidly drunk and she is reasonably sober, attractive and seemingly interested in your conversation, she is probably a hooker. Noted.

Friday

Wake up with all the lights on, in my clothes, TV on. Head is not even worth talking about, so I move on. Throw things a sqare thing I believe to be my case. Slink out of room in shame. Realize I don't have my coat. Fortunately it is pouring out otherwise I might forgotten it completely. At least I remember that I left it at the W bar.

Getting my coat from the conceirge was done in such a way to torture a person with a hangover. It went like this:

"what kind of jacket was it?"
"a Columbia Convert. Black. With a grey stripe"
(repeats over phone, talking the the bar, I presumed)
"What size is it?"
I pause. "Large?"
(repeats. long wait.)
"Can you describe anything else about it?"
"Uh, wow. It has a hood? There is carmex in the pocket?"
(repeats this. Long pause.)
"I think he's got it for you."
"Great!"
(seemingly endless wait)
A man in a sharp suit emerges with my jacket.
"Is this it?"

Now mind you, I showed my gratitude, but come on. I wished I had the brain power to come up with something like "oh... no... my jacket had the carmex in the right pocket."

I get to the office and man I must look as bad as I feel as even the Indian contractors look at mee incredulously, and getting any kind of look out of these guys is a stretch. I saw Guns and asked him if he recalled that how the evening ended and he said "oh, your let a giuy grope you for one drink." and I was of course incredulous. And he said "really! youd did!". Then of course it came back to me. "Oh yeah. Wow." The thing is with the Seattle office there are like 5 people working every square foot, so of course that was heard, and twisted, and by lunch I was known as "Cheap Date". Nice way to wrap up a week, don't you think? I figured the story of my run in would wait until I got back from Lunch.

At least C was laughing at me when I told her the story. I am such a degenerate, but at least it is funny for now. I just hope the next time I read this is not from a program,

So that was it. Company money well spent. Times like that really make me love my job.