Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

After nearly two weeks of a bad case of melancholy and wallowing on the couch, I decided it was time to get out. The change of season always brings with it a sense of melancholy, which triggers a sense of loneliness, which triggers a sense of desperation. I either had the choice to join or get out into the community, and since I was having an exceptionally good hair day, I decided to venture out into the community.
So I headed downtown, with 20 bucks in my pocket, dressed to the nines in my finest winter attire and looking to maximize my discretionary income and exposure. My dilemma was this: spend 15 to 20 dollars on lunch as the fancy restaurant, possibly meeting someone of the male persuasion as I dined alone at the restaurant. Or I could get a cheap lunch at McDonald’s and then catch a matinee movie, which would fill more time but minimize my ability to meet people.
After perusing the marquee and not seeing a movie I would care to spend 8.50 on, I opted for a cheap lunch, eaten on the mall to maximize exposure. After ordering a personal pan pizza and breadsticks, a bit of a luxury for me because of all the carbs, I ate my lunch on a bench on the mall, then did a little bit of Christmas shopping. At 3 p.m. It was too early to head home, and I pondered my next step. With 15 dollars still left in my pocket, I decided to take the most prudent route—drink my way towards home.
I started with coffee at Starbucks, savoring my drink and reading a book on the history of marijuana as research for a story I’m covering next week. I wasted a good 45 minutes lounging in the coffee shop before heading up the mall. I stopped for a cigarette and lo and behold my buddy Mr. C jumped off the mall shuttle to visit with me, and ask me why I hadn’t called him to go to dinner. Now, Mr. C is delightful, but his past includes incarceration for violent crimes, along with current medication for a plethora of mental disorders. I politely visited with him before faking business in the bar of the local Sheraton Hotel, where the people are very nice, and the happy hour drinks are cheap.
I left Mr. C and bellied up to the bar at Mix, taking advantage of their 5 dollar glasses of wine, which are like two glasses in one. Not much was happening there, so I drank my wine, read my book and visited with the waitress. I left feeling slightly buzzed, grabbed a movie at Redbox and headed up the hill towards home. I hit the Avenue Grill, and with ten dollars still in my pocket, decided to partake of their happy hour—which included 2 dollar drafts and 4 dollar appetizers.
I bellied up to the bar—the second time in one day—and ordered a draft beer and small plate of potstickers. The bartender was giving a lesson on the history of whiskey, which I listened to intently, then went about reading my book and drinking my beer. I got into a conversation with a delightful man named Patrick, whose mission in life has been to replace windows in all manner of hotels, residences and businesses across the United States. After learning more than any one person should know about windows, I graciously excused myself and finished the walk home—about 500 feet, where I curled up with my Redbox rental and hoped for a deep slumber—all at the delightful hour of 7:30 p.m.

November 10, 2011 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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