Wednesday night, my apartment complex held a summer luau on the roof of my building. Remember the Christmas party they held? It was similar to that, only better.
Not only was there free food and booze, but it was unlimited. Hell to the yes.
I showed up about 20 minutes after it started, grabbed a plate of food and a beer. I found an empty table and sat down. I took one bite of the brisket before I noticed the one and only Emilio Estevez (creepy neighbor in 219) looking in my direction.
But before I had any real time to react, an older couple surrounded my table, plopped right down and said, “You look lonely!”
Thanks for the insult.
From what I gathered, they’d moved to down just a week ago from New Mexico, and it was indeed a son in his early 40s living with his mom.
I grabbed another beer.
Just as I was feeling my buzz, here comes hot neighbor. He was dressed in gym attire, carrying a protein shake like a true juicehead.
He came right over, said hello, and asked where the goods were. I pointed him to the food and he shortly returned and joined the misfit table for a chat. Unfortunately, he didn’t stay long, saying there was a documentary on the ’92 Dream Team he wanted to watch.
“I’m such a dumb jock,” he said.
So he left, and I went for beer no. 3. On my way back to my table these two cute guys stopped me and asked me about the beer I was drinking. They were best friends, roommates, and both big drinkers. Insta-friends.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Estevez approaching and I quickly told the guys the deal. So here comes Estevez, acting all cool and pretending like he didn’t tell me his apartment number.
Finally, Estevez leaves and we all have a laugh. Somehow, one of the maintenance men was near us, and the cute boys start chatting it up with him. Being the nice guys they are, they were like “hey dude you worked so hard tonight, come upstairs for a beer.”
So the four of us go upstairs and have more beer. The guys’ apartment was awesome —projector screen instead of a TV, massive collection of Ray Bans, and of course, an inflatable pool on the balcony, complete with sand and a palm tree.
I finished my beer, gave them my number and skipped downstairs to tell Gizzy my night. I chatted with her for a few hours, my buzz was wearing off, but clearly not enough.
Around midnight, I scribbled something on a post it note, skipped two doors down to hot neighbor’s door, and slapped it front and center…