Runaway

Ever have one of those weekends where the whole thing feels like a brand new adventure? Only you are not paired up with one of your good friends for the journey. Every turn you take – you take alone. Instead of being timid or shy of what’s around the corner you charge full force ahead. Directionless – but laughing the entire time. Flashbacks of Goonies ready for the next challenge.

That was my weekend. Except . . .

I disappear on people –
It’s a habit I have always had.
I’m independent to a fault.

Friday started out simple enough going to a friend’s birthday party (Mom if your reading you should stop reading now before you start fearing for my safety). At the party, I ran into a good buddy of mine who was with 3 very good looking guys. Just by looking at them one could tell they were the right kind of wrong but with a Three Stooges personality. Fingers snapped and I was in a cab with them on my way to another bar.

I never said good-bye to the b-day girl

30 minutes later

My phone rings – hey it’s M – I am up the street a bar that just opened next to BW3’s

I can walk there right?

I never said goodbye and walked up the street

The layout was nice, clean wide angled edges with a crisp sharpness to the bar. I quickly found my friends but something was very out of place. My friend was wearing a shirt underneath a shirt. I like the layer look but - it was a tattoo shirt, the bottom shirt is supposed to make it look like you have tattoos on your arms (M – if your reading this – you’ll never live it down, your still a bad ass – minus the tattoos.)

After a good hour there I was outside making new friends when the birthday girl called. Feeling like a child who ran away from home, I hailed a cab and jetted back to the original bar.

I never said good-bye to M.

It’s dangerous to disappear. On the nights I perform my vanishing act I will wake up the next day to numerous miscalls and J – WTF – WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? Those that know me are accustomed to the tried and true ritual of me disappearing into thin air. I don’t do anything I shouldn’t do, I don’t go home with strange men and I’d like to think I could drop kick someone’s ass if they tried to hurt me,
(like to think).