Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Taking Cabs Home From Bars With Strangers

I don't know why I was just thinking about this, but I'm pretty sure everyone with a fake ID has experienced it. You stumble out of Coppie's or Whosie's or Baseball Tavern or White Horse (we get it Seniors) with the girl you were hoping you wouldn't succumb to hooking up with, and the cab scene resembles Egyptian independence rallies. Just pure hysteria. Kids fighting (kids in Vineyard Vines screaming loudly at each other from a distance), girls falling over themselves, friends trying to locate friends. At this point you would literally give every dollar in your wallet to get in a cab and get the hell back to Newton. I mean Walsh. You see a fellow sleaze pair flagging down a cab and make a run for it. After all, 4 is the magic number.

What follows is something of a four-way orgy. Dudes inevitably loving each other because they have getting with a chick that night in common. Girls complimenting each other on their beer-stained tops. This interaction actually defines the twelve minute friend. And I love every second of it.

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