Well, a few days later, the Irish Car Bombs were tried. A group of us got together at a delightful little establishment called Zupco's (if you are thinking Polish, you wouldnt be in correct). After spending a nice evening with Derril driving around New Brunswick, eating dinner with Charlie, and getting terrible service at IHOP (from someone who wasnt even wearing a nametag, so I'm not positive she actually worked there), we went to this "bar" in Dunellen, New Jersey.
If you are unfamiliar with Dunellen, New Jersey, please reference an old blog post about Manville, NJ. It's the same place. Anyway, Zupco's was unlike any other bar I had been to, it had low ceilings that seemed to leak asbestos, a weird "front only" seating arrangement, and I may be remembering incorrectly, but I feel like they had picnic table cloths on the tables. In short, it looked like some sort of pool hall, just a sad place in general. (The one bright spot was a HUGE LED sign, letting you know what beers were on tap. To call this an eyesore is an understatement).
So, Derril decides I need to try a black russian (vodka and kahlua) after some of my other poor alcohol choices and he buys me this delicious concoction. After spending, no joke, 12 minutes at the bar waiting to order, Derril discovers the bartender doesnt know how to make a black russian, makes them re-make drinks, and then we end up with a vanilla vodka. I could care less, Derril is unsatisfied. I try it and I like it, a very sweet coffee like flavor with a nice kick. It's very apparent why there are a lot of drunk Russian authors.
I sip the drink for over 30 minutes, as I was told this is alot stronger than other things I've had and I decide that I am done for the evening. However, Irish Car Bomb girl was back and hanging out with us and I made the mistake of bringing it up again (insisting that she buy me the drink). And she did. And by this point I was certainly feeling the Black Russian. She goes and waits by the bar for 3-5 minutes (not quite positive on this) and at some point, another of our friends, goes up AFTER her, and returns with a drink BEFORE her. She looks at me and I(apparently being hammered after one drink) almost say, "It's because you're not pretty enough."
Luckily, Derril stopped me before I finished the statement (she was definitely pretty enough, as you'll read on) and she quickly returned to the table with one Irish Car Bomb in hand. I demanded she drink with me and she said, "I am, but I only have 2 arms." To which I drunkenly slurred, "I wish you were an octopus." (Which, I immediately thought was hilarious.)
I drank the Irish Car Bomb (poorly) the shot of Bailey's didnt flip correctly, so I ended up drinking it afterwards, but I chugged the rest and everyone was very proud. So back to ICB girl, I had shown interest in her from a few nights before, become entranced with her backyard volleyball playing, and hoped for the best on this night (she DID buy me a drink after all). My friends offered help, telling her she could crash on the couch with me, to which she accepted (we agreed upon cuddling the shit out of each other. There were even high fives.)
Awhile later, we all decided to go to another bar, apparently she was fine to drive, but I wasnt getting into a car with her, so we headed to Manville. Derril and I somehow managed to beat everyone there by 15 minutes and I decided a sub from Quikcheck was immediately necessary (an apparent theme of my drunkenness). Once we got to that bar, last call was already happening, we (the entire group of people) stuck around for 15 minutes, watched some people drink and then headed to Derril's house. This was it.
Yet, she walked towards her car, saying her goodbyes, and deciding to go home (somehow miraculously sobering up after having a drink at the second bar). Her car wouldnt start, so Derril and I, using most of our brute strength, jiggled some wires and got the car going. We were heroes, there were hugs and goodbyes and that was it. I had only had 2 drinks all night, and I made sure to wait more than 2 hours before driving back to my place, since crashing alone on the couch just didnt seem right.
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