Cinco De Mayo 2006

It was one of those nights. It had started off innocuously enough; a lazy Saturday afternoon spent recovering from Cinco de Mayo, one of the years heaviest drinking days, dinner at a local Mexican restaurant and drinks with good friends at one of the Villages many establishments. But what had turned out afterwards was anything but ordinary. In fact, it was one of those nights where both intoxication and the grandest of drunken ideas, merged together into a perfect storm of absolute ridiculousness that will be talked about for days, if not weeks later. Even today, a mere flashback of what transpired this Saturday night brings a smile to my face, if not a case of the giggles.  

Now what transpired on Saturday cannot be fully appreciated without a little background story. I know Mike from martial arts training where we both are members, but I never really hung out or hit the bars with him or his friends. Additionally I had only met Alaina once before at one of our gyms get-togethers to watch the UFC. However over lunch through the week, we had decided to meet up for Cinco de Mayo downtown. That outing in itself was a great time out, meeting new people, and hanging out with others that we had never hung out with before. Unfortunately, Mike by some odd decision missed out and decided to stay in Sugarland, rather than hang out with some very attractive women and drink shots of premium liquor. As such, he had it in his mind to come out with us the next night, and completely atone for his absence the night before. 

Fast forward to Saturday night, now due to unforeseen circumstances I was not able to join Mike, Alaina and Forrest (another friend from where Mike and I train) for dinner at el Tiempo. But from what I had later heard, Mike had already decided to send himself on the path of complete and total inebriation. And being the friends that we are, decided to go along for the ride. Completing my tasks that I had to do before going out, I had met them at Bronx bar already nursing my second beer. After a short stop at Baker street, and another beer, we decided to head over to Bronx again and thats where we would stay.  

Now, our time spent at Bronx bar gets a little hazy, with the main contributing factor probably being the numerous shots and other alcoholic beverages that we were consuming. As you can see from the pictures on Mikes blog, I and pretty much everyone else was lit like Christmas trees well before last call. In fact, Forrest had tried to suggest that we should tail it down, but every time he turned around another shot or drink of some sort had appeared in his hand. Apparently it was at this point where Mikes higher brain functions had slowly ceased to function and from now until we got to my house, no new memories were to be formed. He was running purely on survival mode.  

Since everyone was basically fucked up beyond all recognition, I told Alaina, Mike and Forrest that my house was only four blocks away, and perfect for relaxing and sobering up for a couple of hours before hitting the road. The crew thought this to be an excellent idea and we went to my house. Upon entering my street, being the jackasses we are, Forrest and I purposely parked behind a large puddle so that Alaina would park right beside it. In our inebriated states, we had hoped that Mike would not see the puddle and submerge his foot into the puddle (and we thought this would be extremely hilarious). As we sat in the dark of Forrests car, in complete silence, we were amazed (and a bit disappointed) when Mike somehow avoided the puddle of water and made his way to my house. He was very fortunate to have avoided the puddle for reasons that would become clear later.  

Now our time at the bar was obviously extremely fun. Alcohol plus hot women plus a good mix of hip hop leads to a night of dancing and more drinking. However what was to take place outside of the bar amongst a small group of four people, was to top anything that would have happened at Bronx, or any other nightclub that we may have visited that evening. After conversation about topics that will never be repeated under fear of death (or possible humiliating revenge by any of the above mentioned parties), we had started to succumb to the drunken munchies. I had then offered to cook some pasta. However, when we tried to call Mike to join us, he had already begun to pass out and probably not have woken up except for one specific reason.  

As the three still conscious sat down to eat, Mike suddenly rose and stumbled across the room and opened the front door and let loose the devil that had built up in his stomach after imbibing a small liquor store. In fact, we were impressed at how many times he had actually thrown up. During this time, I turned to Forrest, and using my psychic abilities predicted that within the next ten seconds, would return from the front stoop head directly to the couch lie down, see us, give us the middle finger salute and promptly pass out. As he returned from the door, mike did all these actions to a T.   

Now massive amounts of liquor combined with unconsciousness would make anyone sound like a chainsaw while sleeping, however in Mikes case, this common combination not only did this, but amplified it six or seven times. In fact Alaina, Forrest and I marveled at how all this noise was humanly possible. And after dinner, we (sadly or happily depending on your perspective) decided to have a bit of fun at Mikes expense. Now, we had discussed breaking out the sharpies and it was only Mikes extreme good luck (and our bad luck) that we were not able to find any markers to give him temporary, but extremely hilarious tattoos. Additionally, it was Mikes good fortune that we had somewhat sobered up, as three extremely drunk people would probably have had the great idea to duct tape Mike to the sofa, or suspend him from the ceiling.  

However, while several pictures were being taken and ideas branded about, divine inspiration came in the form of a bastardized Steve Irwin. As Alaina took video with her phone (and I laughed my ass off), Forrest started to describe the habits (and the danger) posed by unconscious drunk Filipinos. Unfortunately, this video had to be cut short due to an incoming phone call. But not to be deterred, Forrest decided to take it an extra step further. Dressing up in a ball cap, old navy vest, Mardi-gras beads and carrying a big stick, Forrest again approached the very dangerous inebriated sleeping Filipino. And to demonstrate the danger, began poking him with the stick. As the video rolled again, the first poke did nothing to rouse Mike from his slumber. However the second and longer poke, managed to wake him. In a look that can only be described as equal parts suprise, utter bewilderment, and extreme inebriation, Mike sprang up to sitting, and was semi-conscious for approximately three seconds, and immediately flopped onto his other side, and was most likely passed out again even before he fell over. By this time all three of us had lost all sense of composure that we had and were laughing hysterically. After we finally stopped, we decided to go outside and let mike (and my roommates) get some sleep.  

Now this would have made a great story if it ended right there, but theres more. Upon waking the next day, we were relating to Mike what had happened after he passed out last night. We were also relating to my roommate what had gone on the night before, somehow the conversation turned to shoes. Upon which mike sits up again exclaiming MY SHOES!! Yup, that is right, our friend Mike somehow managed to lose not one, but both of his shoes between the time we had left the bar, and had arrived at my house. The shoes were nowhere to be seen in my house and we had no clue where they were as we left the house for breakfast. I can only wonder what the other people at the ihop where we met Forrest were thinking as sat in our booth with mike using the sports section of the Sunday Chronicle as a blanket.  

After breakfast we all took our leave, and it was then that Mike finally found his shoes in Alainas car. He had actually walked three blocks in just his socks from the car to the house over uneven Rice village terrain.  

All in all it was a great night, good friends, good drinking, and even greater stories.

Written By: Ponciano Jino Manalo


started out at el tiempo…


Becca,Amy,Marci,& the rest of the New Orleans crew


the bronx bar steps


=dumb and dumber


my badass old friend trey wiley


bye bye village


see ya later


at pappadeux with giant steve


seeing my sis before she left for San Antonio

grand total:

$175 (bronx) $30 (el tiempo) $55 (dillards) $30 (big lot) = $290

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