On Saturday a buddy of mine hosted a party to commemorate the opening of his new basement barcade. Now, I've only know the guy for a short while, so when I received the invite I had assumed we were talking about a finished basement with a bar, home theater set up, and maybe a pool or foosball table.No, what this guy has put together was a frig'n awesome barcade. Evidently one of his hobbies the past few years has been buying and restoring old coin-op games. His basement is decked out with about a dozen different arcade cabinets of mostly 80s games; stuff like Joust, Ms. Pac Man, Galaga, Star Trek (the awesome sit down enclosure), etc. It's just an amazing setup.
More fun, though, was bringing along Rock Band to set up with his video projector. Nothing like a dozen or so tipsy to blindingly drunk people taking turns at Rock Band. I'm not sure if the highlight was me trying to sing Roam (yes, I downloaded Roam, so sue me) or our host trying to sing that Timmy and the Lords of the Underworld song. In any case, Rock Band was meant for events like this. The only downside was my band, Green Eggs and Mayham, lost a lot of fans on this night.
Anyway, after the Rock Band portion of the evening had started to wrap up, I went back down to the bar area to chat with some of the people who were too cool for plastic guitars and pretend drums. It was at this point that I inquired about a drink that had been handed to someone a couple of chairs down from me. The guy handling bar duty asked if I wanted one...
This is where I'm gonna channel my best Mike Birbiglia...
So, what I should've said was, "No thanks. I'm fine." (Or nothing.) What I said was, "Yeah sure."
Long story short, it's now Tuesday morning and I'm only just starting to feel like a 3-dimensional, living human again. I don't know what that f#@er put in that cup, but from now on I'm sticking to beer and wine.
