Continued....

So we finish up unloading all of BMS's stuff. I look like someone shot me with a supersoaker. Damn sweat. I swear I somehow sweat more liquid then humanly possible. It sucks. We get ready for downtown and I'm sporting my tuxedo t-shirt (I'm formal but I'm here to party) so of course its going to be a good night. We get a message that "the Benjamin's" will meet us downtown at Nick's at 9:30, but we don't feel like waiting so we head down there earlier and put down a few beers and some bar food (all bar food is not created equal, especially somewhat international food at a tiny bar with their menu written on one of the walls). The bartender looks familiar and recognizes me but for the life of me I can't remember which set of friends I know him from. I really feel bad because he's a friendly guy but I guess it happens. 9:45 rolls around and I get a call from C.P. saying that they are just now headed down and stopping for dinner. I tell him to meet us at another bar because I know that they will take forever to get there and while Nick's has quite the nice atmosphere and selection of tasty hoppy beers, it lacks heavily in the eye candy department, so I figured we'd move on before they got there. We finish the food and beers and head up to Griffin's.

The attractive bartender is still not there, we figure this weekend she's at Hooters (not a joke, its her other job) but Griffin's is good as usual. C.P., Katie and Keihner show up finally and we have a great time hanging out and taking pictures with Jeb's new camera. One of the people at the bar sees my shirt and quotes Talladega Nights which makes me super happy. But the first couple of Polo wants to go to TTT's so we head over there.

We continue having a great time, drinking long island pitchers and stay there until the usual closing time on a Saturday, midnight. Then I decide that we should really head to Overtime since Tim has a membership and everyone left agrees.

Now I have somehow lost my new driver's licence. I remember having it and dropping it in between my car seat and the middle console but an exhaustive search earlier in the weekend with Jeb and BMS's help turns up nothing. For the most part in Clemson we don't get carded because they know us, but Overtime is apparently not like that. I approach the gate and the 350lb bouncer asks to see the ID. I tell him I don't have it, hoping that he's not a total douche and actually opens his eyes and sees that I don't look like an 18 year old trying to sneak in, but he brushes me off and I can't come in. I move farther down the patio fence and run into two guys that apparently know me but I don't believe I had ever met before. My friends who made it in join the three of us talking and give me a suggestion.

"Why don't you just hop the fence, they aren't looking"

I glance down at the two huge bastards checking ID's and also notice that there's a huge brick post in between me and them that would obscure my entrance. I weigh my options with the chance of getting pounded on and tossed out by the giants at the gate compared to being stuck outside and make a semi graceful vault of the fence to join my friends. Everything is good, no one seemed to notice, why not get a drink now that I'm in. I head to the bar with my friends and order a drink.

The bartender who I have seen at least a dozen times before at this bar actually asks for my ID again.

Getting in wasn't enough, now I needed to prove it again to get a drink? What the hell man. I tell him I don't have it and he gets a douchebag look on his face and hands my credit card which I had just handed him to the other bartender who starts walking toward the exit. I know I'm screwed and honestly hope I just don't end up having one of the fat ID checking bastards screaming in my face before I leave. We get to the gate and the bartender is holding out my ID in front of him like a torch or something so I grab it out of his hand and just walk out the gate into the crowd of people trying to get in. I contemplate turning around and flicking him off but figure the get away without much hassle is good enough. I walk up the sidewalk and stand in front of the Wachovia to wait for my friends to finish up and come out.

Amazingly I run into one of my old roommates, who despite being fairly underage when I roomed with him a year ago is now definitely 21. We chat for a while and him and his friend start smoking. All of a sudden out of nowhere comes this super hot chick asking for a cigarette. She looks like a younger Danica Patrick. I tell her this and while shes sorta flattered, she also doesn't seem to know who Danica Patrick is. She says her name is Harmony, which I feel is just as goofy so I decide to call her Danica anyway. She seems not to mind and actually smiles a little when I do it. Shes with some exchange student that she seems to be in town to sleep with. In our conversation he talks about his girlfriend back in Columbia or Argentina or South Africa or where ever it was in front of this girl hes sleeping with and she amazingly doesn't blink or seem to care at all. Girl's are funny like that. He looks like an ugly version of Jim Morrison. Danica seems to really be eyeing me and I contemplate asking for her number despite her obvious lack of availability. Looking back I probably could have pulled it off, oh well. Jeb finally shows up and does his best to wing man it up for me but it's a lost cause. We walk on back to Jeb's and crash for the night.

The next day I'm up surprisingly early, woken up by BMS and her little flat faced dog. I sit around for a while and finally we decide that Jeb needs to wake up so we can go get some always tasty Waffle House. We go and laugh about the night before and when we get back we watch a David Decovney movie I hadn't seen, which turned out to be really good. But I was worn out and decided it was time to head home, where I ended my crazy weekend passed out in a heap at the bottom of my bed.