The Life and Times of the Drunken Rogue: Part 3.5

I Never Met a Bar I Didn't Like

For those that are just joining the party, this is the fourth in a series of auto-biographical blogs about your intrepid host, The Drunken Rogue. For a complete recap click here for Part 1, here for Part 2, and here for Part 3.1, but for the lazy or incredibly busy...

Joel as a boy had a friend named Ellie, he loved her dearly but couldn't spell her last name. Joel as a teenager had a friend named Darren, but Joel didn't talk about him much because Darren's not on MySpace. Joel also dated a girl named Ginger and was dumped, but said nice things about her, because she IS on MySpace. Joel went to college and apparently did SO much that it took more than one blog to talk about. When last we left our hero, he had: met his mentor (John Price), dated a lovely Mormon girl (Debbie) and befriended a rascally cajun ne'er-do-well (Coonass Rick).

We join our story already in progress...

...and that was the last time I tried that in the bedroom!

What? I said it was already in progress.

It occurred to me as I was reading over the first three posts and preparing this one, that I could (and seem to) mark my life, not by events or ages, but by friends. I don't know if I am the only one that does this or if all of you are nodding your heads saying, "Yeah, me too." Let's assume for arguments sake that this is not an extraordinary thing. That we move through our lives, exchanging one group of friends for another. It's not that we drop old friends like dirty laundry on your mother's floor, but the frequency of visits drops, common interests change, and before long someone else is #1 on the speed-dial. It seems to be the way of things. As my first year at tech was in full swing I was in the midst of my second such transition.

Many of my high school compadres had accompanied me to La Tech. Darren and I even roomed together for the first two quarters. But as he decided college was not for him, I branched out and embraced a new set of friends, largely centered around Rick, and Amanda. Amanda and I knew each other through a common friend from Bastrop. We had been introduced officially the weekend of orientation just after high school graduation. Very quickly, Amanda and I became better friends than the girl that introduced us.

In case you're wondering, I'm not going to mention her name (she who introduced us), because I don't have a single positive thing to say about her (other than she introduced me to Amanda). Amanda and I met, and immediately hit it off. She was (and still is) an even harder drinker than me. She's funny, has great taste in music and was an excellent replacement for the female friend I had always had. I could (and quite possibly will in the future) write a series of blogs just on Amanda stories but for now, let's limit ourselves to three:

1. Amanda, Joel and the Ghetto Fabulous Lifestyle -- After two quarters of dorm life, and my roommate Darren ditching college, I decided to move into an apartment. I knew it would be wise to get a roommate, so I asked Amanda if she was interested in moving from her current domicile. She had grown weary of her current roommates (see number 3) so we started looking. In our budget, for the size place we wanted, the best we could find was the lovely Stadium Townhouses. For those of you that live or have lived in Ruston. These townhouses are the ones just behind the Thomas Assembly Center. It looks nice enough during the day, but at night, it's reminiscent of a carnival. There is loud music, barkers selling their wares, even a firing range (though they don't use rubber bullets). We moved in and for the first two weeks enjoyed it, thinking we had done quite well. It was not long though before we understood the reason the rent was so low. Over Easter break, Amanda visited her Dad and stepmom and I went home to Bastrop. Easter Sunday, Jena (my little sis) and I came back to Ruston, to enjoy a few holiday days away from the folks. We pull up outside, I unlock the door and immediately notice something is wrong. Finally I am able to put it together, my stuff is missing. We had been robbed (the first time in my life). A couple of kids had scaled the roof, opened the upstairs window, climbed into my bedroom, rifled through drawers snapping up a few things, came downstairs and after getting their fill, left through the sliding glass door on the back patio. From me they took, a knife, a CD changer, a few dozen CD's, a Surround sound receiver, and a box of cigars. From Amanda they got, a pistol and a carton of Marlboro's. We called the police, they came, I asked if they could do anything they laughed. I called Amanda, expecting sympathy for my loss, or anger over them taking the pistol (it was probably at least a couple of hundred dollars). She picked up the phone.

Amanda: Hey punk.
Joel: I got bad news.
Amanda: What?
Joel: We got robbed, this weekend.
Amanda: Son-of-a...what did they take?

I told her.

Amanda: My Marlboro's!

That was literally the only thing I ever heard her complain about as far as the robbery was concerned.

2. Amanda, Joel, and the Demon Kitten -- Amanda, ever the animal lover, had (from the day we moved in together) pestered me about adopting an animal. I (always the level-headed fellow) strongly cautioned against it. I knew it would cost a ton of money and time, and frankly didn't want the hastle. One day I came home from class and there it was, a kitten. Oh, it looked innocent enough, but much like Damien from "The Omen" it plotted against us while we slept. I have since been told by people that I overreacted, the cat wasn't evil just very playful. Bull. This cat had a taste for blood, particularly mine. As summer approached, Amanda began talking about moving home (to Arizona) for the summer. She wanted to visit friends, and her Mom. I thought it was a lovely idea, but wondered aloud, what would happen to demon kitten. Amanda said, "Well you'll keep her for me won't you?" Of course I would. Amanda left, and I and the cat were alone in the house. Two weeks into summer vacation, the air conditioning unit in our apartment gave out. Summer in Louisiana is only slightly bearable WITH a fully functioning air conditioner, without it, it is literally hell on Earth. I informed the landlord of the necessary repairs and started couch-surfing again. I would come by in the morning to clean the litter box and feed little Satan, and then again in the evening. Apparently during one of the maintenance visits, one of the repairmen let the little devil out, and she decided to wander away. I was worried about what Amanda would say, but frankly was thrilled, I could patch my wounds once and for all, and I could even take the garlic cloves off my bedroom door. A little less than a month after the kitten departed, I was awoken from a midday nap by a little girl knocking on the door. The little girl informed me that she knew where my kitten was. One of her neighbors had found the kitten in the parking lot of our apartments, and the kitten had followed her home. It was in good health and the little girl was taking care of it, but this little girl just wanted to do the right thing. I told the girl that the right thing, wouldn't be to take the cat away from a loving little girl. We'd just leave the kitten in her chosen home. I however failed to mention to Amanda that I had heard of the kitten's whereabouts. It was two-three years and several moves later that I finally filled her in on that part of the story. Still as night sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat with nightmares of the Demon cat, returning for her revenge.

3. Amanda, the roommate and the overnight guest -- It is about 8:30am. I, accustomed to sleeping much later, am still unconscious when my phone rings. I (living on friends' couches at the time, since I had moved out of the dorms, but not found a place of my own) answered it, prepared to bite the head off of whoever was on the other end.

Joel: What?
Amanda: You have to come over here, right now.
Joel: What time is it? What the hell do you want?
Amanda: You have got to come to my house right now.
Joel: There is no way I'm getting up now. Tell me what it is.
Amanda: I can't, you've got to come see.
Joel: You're freaking kidding me.
Amanda: Come on, now.

She hung up. I was, I admit, intrigued. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and rode over to her house. Amanda at the time was sharing a house with (she who will not be named, that mutual friend that introduced us) and two guys they had befriended in their first classes. The house also had a hanger-on. A girl that wasn't dating anybody there, wasn't related to anybody there, but always seemed to be there. When I arrived, Amanda was standing outside the front door smoking. She whispered, "Come on in, you're not going to believe this." We walked in to the living room and on the floor was a mattress where the hanger-on (let's call her Susie) was lying still asleep. The part that Amanda had thought interesting enough to invite me over to see it, was that Susie was not alone, and neither of them had any clothes on. Sheets were covering all the blushable regions, but the evidence of their nudity was strewn about the room. Also strewn about the room was the evidence that they now were intimately acquainted, several times from the looks of things. I am no prude, and try not to judge anyone for their lifestyle, but the idea that you would screw a stranger, in some one else's house, and not even bother to be dressed by the time the actual residents woke up, astounds me.

Amanda and I had plenty of good times, but for many of them we were not alone. The group consisted of several core members and the odd peripheral groupie as well. The core was comprised of: (in no particular order)

Rick: Coonass, drummer for a local rock band. Chain-smoker, hard-drinker and general ass

Shaun: Sikh from Lake Charles. For those not acquainted with Sikhs more info can be found here. Sikhs like Jews is mainly a religion, but also sort of a race. They are not Hindus, not Muslims but originate from India. Shaun, didn't practice the religion, but claimed the race. He was born in the states, grew up in Lake Charles, but spoke like a surfer. He's over six feet, handsome and could (and often did) drink the rest of us under the table. He is still the only man I know who has ever drank four of the Monroe Airport Lounge 32 oz. Long Island Iced Teas in a sitting (although he did sleep naked in the bathtub that night).

Plummer: For years I didn't even know Plummer's first name. He was a biology student, and is currently somewhere in the desert researching AIDS or cancer or both, I'm not really sure. Smart, funny, looks just like Josh Charles

Brian: If we were the Simpsons, Brian was our own little Homer. "D'oh" would indeed be his catchphrase. Big, lovable, a little silly.

Amanda: You know this one.

Joel: Ditto.

Sandra: The artist in the group, she and Amanda were our only two female members (though the ladies loved us and were always around). Sophisticated, witty, and classy to a fault, Sandra was our Bacall.

Walker: Walker is the sort of fellow, that you don't really think exists. A little less than ten years older than me, he had already served his country (in both overt and covert ways) and been handed his walking papers by the time we met. A little shell-shocked from some of the things he had seen, with far too much fascination with Asian women, but lovable none the less. He was also great to have around, because who better to plan an outing, than a man who had planned military missions?

The Bens: Ben G. and Ben C., one was Shaun's friend and the other Rick's friend. Much like Latoya and Michael Jackson, they never seemed to appear together. When one would hang around a lot, the other would fade out, and not be heard from for a while. I don't think they're the same person, but one can never be sure.

Again, there were others, but this was the core group. Quite a mob when we all showed up together (except for both Bens of course). What did we do? Largely drink. Oh, and play trivia. For those of you who have never played NTN trivia let me suggest that before you finish this blog (and that could be a while) you should run out and enjoy this little slice of heaven in a fine pub or bar near you. We played at Ponchatoula's and the day went much like this:

11am: Ponchatoula's opens, Rick, Shaun, one of the Bens and I arrive take our game boards, and a beer and get a table.

3pm: We leave the bar, to go home, shower and dress for the evening.

6pm: We return to Ponchatoula's in our evening attire. Take our game boards, a beer and get a table.

12am: Leave the bar with the staff as they lock up, have a nightcap or four at one of our houses, and drift off to sleep.

That was the first two quarters of Sophomore year. This rut, was indeed what eventually led to our separation as a group. Early (not really it was about noon) one Sunday morning, the crew arrived at the apartment complex most of us lived in after an all night party in Monroe. As we ascended the stairs to Shaun, and Amanda and Sandra's apartments Rick queried the group, "What day is it?" Shaun quickly replied, Sunday. "No," Rick said, "the date." Shaun replied the fourth. "Of January?" Rick asked. February, Shaun told him. "What happened to January?" Rick asked. And indeed, we all wondered.

It wasn't like I meant to quit hanging out with them, or they with me. We just all went our separate ways. Not too long after that, Amanda would begin the move back to Arizona. Rick and Shaun both buckled down on classes as they neared graduation. Walker took a job selling cars in a town about thirty minutes away and just worked too much to be around a lot. And I, I returned to the theatre.

Coming soon: The Life and Times of the Drunken Rogue: Part Four -- All the World's a Stage, but They Aren't Casting