On this particular Thursday night in late August, I had two college girlfriends coming in town (both of whom are married, but fortunately, have not changed a bit since they weren’t) and we were driving to Savannah the following day for a bachelorette party.  Which means the following day we’d be eating Chick-Fil-A on the road trip anyway, so I figured we may as well be hungover so we could fully enjoy it; I decided to drag them around the city to get our weekend started on the right foot.  First stop:  the Savida Sangria launch party at Rio Grande in Buckhead.  Upon arrival, we were pointed to the bar for a taste of the “first homemade sangria in a bottle,” and from the first sip, I knew it was going to go down way too easy.  Sangria is like Juicy Juice to me;  people can say “oh, this place has really great, strong sangria” or “one glass of this sangria and you’ll be on the floor” but I always end up downing it like a 3^rd grader with a Capri Sun on a hot day.  Needless to say, I had a glass of the red and two of the white – both VERY delicious – and decided I needed to slow down as it was only 7:30 pm.

Next stop: one of my fave local spots: Verde Tacqueria in Brookhaven.  We take our seats, and when a tall hot waiter (THW) approached our table, I didn’t notice his Verde tee-shirt and thought he was just stopping by the table to hit on us…which I proceeded to tell him.  He laughed, told us he WAS indeed our waiter…but turns out, THW planned to hit on us anyway (well, actually just me, as he must have noticed the other girls’ “back-off-buddy bling”).  I ordered my new cocktail of choice for Mexican joints: tequila and water on the rocks with a LOT of limes (in this case, Herradura Silver, because apparently, I think I’m a baller), while the girls got margs and we all ordered guac and a couple of their awesome tacos.   When I got up to use the restroom, THW asked my friends my name and the rest is history.  The server-patron flirt was in full effect the rest of the evening and when I ordered my next drink, this is what I got:

What…a romantic gesture.

Anyway, there was no number exchange but I figured if I’m in the market for a dude who can hook me up with free Mexican grub any time I want…I know where to find him.  In other words, I’ll probably be at Verde next weekend.

We headed back to my house to call a cab to head to our final destination: W Downtown for the BMI Showcase after-party, where the Modern Skirts would be playing, as well as Michael Tolcher.  The party started at midnight if that give any indication of the longevity of this night.  I played cab roulette in my head, which basically consists of recalling which cab company – Checker or Yellow – pissed me off last, and then calling the other one.  So, Checker got the honor this evening…and they failed miserably.  After being told “5-20 minutes” and waiting 35, I called them, “voiced my concerns” with some choice words, and then called Yellow.  Yellow pulled up 10 minutes later and we hopped in, just as the Checker cab driver pulled up as well and realized what was happening.  Sorry Checker – better luck next time.

We pulled up to the W (where I think the valets know me by name now) and headed up to Drinkshop, where a nice crowd was already forming.  I ordered my new favorite drink: the Sapphire Cup (created by Drinkshop bartender Eric and which will be featured in GQ magazine this November), and made the girls do the same.  A few beverages and good conversations later (and one rousing rendition of Beyonce’s Single Ladies by the Skirts) and we were ready to hit it – one friend was looking a little glassy-eyed and I had a feeling one more cocktail for me could have been one too many for a work-related event.  But, I still had to show the girls the rooftop bar (my favorite part of the hotel)…which was already closed for the night.  Yet, I had no worries about that; a smile and wink from Alex got the clean-up guy on the roof to open the doors to the pool deck so we could gaze out over the city from the 16^th floor.  Night complete.  We hopped in a cab, got home, I ate some sort of cheese product (my typical nightcap), and we went to bed, dreaming of the road trip Chick-Fil-A and penis paraphernalia we would encounter the next night at the bach party.