Sunday, April 27, 2008

Interesting Weekend.

Well, as usual, my Friday night was occupied at Latin X Night, at Platinum, the best Cuban Salsa party on the West Coast. Another habit of mine, is getting together with some of my fellow Salsa dancers and having a fun dinner before we hit the club. This time, our delicatessen was Block 15, a new pub and brewery that had opened recently.

We got thrown into the game room, because the place was crowded enough that we weren't going to get a table for a group our size for a ridiculously long time. But it was fine, we got to watch AFV on the boob tube, and there weren't a bunch of people shuffling around our tables. We were also gifted with an inexplicable visit from the "Birthday Fairies." Even though it wasn't any of our birthdays.

One by one, we shuffled over to the bar, and placed our orders. I bought a pint of their Nebula Oatmeal Stout, and ordered a Barbecue Burger, which they said would be brought to me in the game room. I got back to the game room, and my friend Rob saw me fumbling with my debit card, beer, and receipt, trying to cram it back into my wallet. Rob was amazed that I somehow had gotten my card back. Apparently, he was somehow conned into opening a tab. Despite the fact that he doesn't drink. Here's where the meal got real entertaining.

The waitress comes in with a Barbecue burger, and asks who ordered it. Rob, Tristan, and myself all simultaneously say "I did!". Eyeing each other warily, we wrapped our mind around this oddity. But to be fair, it was a really good burger. It sounded much better than the "hand spanked" turkey burger. We gave Rob the first burger, because he ordered first, and the rest of the food came in one quick burst, so other moments of weirdness were averted.

After we finished eating, we went over to Platinum. As usual, we got there a little early, and I helped set up. Simona was having some trouble formatting the projector that splashes giant pictures of previous parties on a wall. Being as it hangs from the ceiling, I can work with it easier than others can.

Afterwords, Rob and I played a game of pool. I'm not a great pool player. Rob's easily better than me, but he was a little off his game, so I managed to take him down to the 8 ball. To be honest, I'm just glad I didn't wind up bleeding during this game again. I guess I'm getting better. I went over to the bar and got myself a rum and coke, and Mike challenged Bill and me to a game of Cutthroat.

For those of you who don't know the rules to cutthroat, the idea is you get three players. You divy up the balls between the three players, high, middle, and low. The goal is to knock every one else's balls in. Whoever has the last ball on the table is victorious.

I was high, Mike was Middle, and Bill was Low. Mike's a pretty good player. I sank one ball and Mike sank three. Then Bill ran the table on us. Turns out Bill helped pay his way through college playing pool. I never had a chance.

I drank some more, talked some more, and generally just waited for the night to ramp up. About 9:30, I get a call from Mercer. He wants me to come over and hang out before the NFL Draft. I love football, and the draft is practically a holiday for me. But I was already entrenched here. So I passed on the offer, I was going to hang out with them during the draft, so it's no big deal.

Tori showed up, and tried to get me to play another game of pool. No thanks, I'm putting my masochistic side away for the night. So we talked a little, and drank a little. Then there was a real surprise. Mercer's girlfriend, who I never had pegged as a salsa dancer showed up with some friends. I waved her over, and introductions were made and pleasantries exchanged. So she introduced me to her friends, Chelsea, Ashley, and Kira. Apparently they were taking Mike and Simona's class at OSU, and dragged Shevelle along for the ride. It's great that she was willing to get out and try something new. So I got her started, and taught her the bare bones of how to dance salsa.

One by one, I danced with each of them. They each had their strong points, but I enjoyed dancing with Kira the most. She was tall, had good rhythm and experience, and was insatiable when it comes to dancing. Even when I was tired, she was ready to go. I was impressed.

Mike was DJing the night, so that meant a lot of meringue, timba, and reggeton. Shevelle was real meek. She spent most of the night sitting at her table. So I started setting her up with some of my friends who I know are skilled, yet understanding leads. I hope she had fun and comes back next time.
We danced into the wee hours of the morning, until Platinum decided to kick us out so they could go home.
The next day rolled around, and so did my hangover. But I pay it no mind, for Saturday was the first day of the NFL Draft! That magical day that sees every football team born anew, in preparation of the rapidly approaching football season. I had my hopes that the Eagles would revitalize their red zone offense through a big bodied WR. With that dream fluttering in my head, I called up Mercer, and caught a ride over to Jon's apartment to watch the magic unfold.

Jon, Mercer, and Brian are all Cowboys fans, so there's some bad blood between us when it comes to football. There was also a Seahawks fan, a Raiders fan, and a Randy Moss fan.

Things got more interesting the closer the draft got to our teams. The Raiders pick at 4 was a foregone conclusion, it was also fantastically stupid. The Eagles came up at 19, and following a report from Sal Palantonio that the Eagles were going to make a catastrophically stupid move, trading up to take tackle Jeff Otah, we prepped the room so that I could safely vent. Opened the door, and moved all breakable objects from my path. Thankfully, the trade never happened. In fact, Otah was still on the board at 19, and we traded down in order to not draft him. Which just goes to show that the media will never know what the Eagles are going to do. I was happy.

That brought up the Cowboys, picking at 22. My Cowboy fan friends wanted their team to draft a corner from the University of South Florida named Mike Jenkins. What they got however, was hilarious. Roger Goodell walked up to the podium, and announced "With the 22nd pick in the NFL Draft, the Dallas Cowboys select... Felix Jones, Running Back, University of Arkansas."

Before he could even say the kid's name, the room I was sitting in exploded into a burst of noise, movement, and anguish. A beanbag chair went flying and another chair got flipped. Mercer ran out the door that I was expected to use when the Eagles picked, Jon sprinted upstairs, and I'm not really sure where Brian went. Understanding their pain, I went to go pick up the pieces. I found Jon in the hall, with his shirt pulled over his eyes, as if not looking at the broadcast could convince him that what he had seen had not actually occurred. Brian found his way back on his own, but Mercer was still outside. So I went to go get Mercer. He was muttering to himself about how Marion Barber's gonna want 60 mil now, and he's probably right. But with Mercer, I couldn't help myself from toying with him a little. So I brightened his day a little by reminding him that the Cowboys still had the 28th pick. Then I taunted him a little, "And DeSean Jackson's still on the board...".

The Cowboys wound up trading the 28th pick to move up to take Mike Jenkins. And the Eagles, using the pick they got in the trade with Carolina, took DeSean Jackson. Well, that came back to bite me in the ass. Oh well.

I'm not a fan of the Eagles draft this season, but I trust the front office to make the right decisions. It's been a long weekend, and I have a long week up ahead, so I can't dwell on the draft too much.

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