I’m going to Z Tejas, downtown, tonight for happy hour. I was invited by a new friend, who phoned earlier to say, "I need a drink, bad because my friend is the one who found Clifford Antone’s body. Poor girl." I love this shit. Not the bit about someone dying, just having a new friend call me and want to vent. "Oh, and I need your advice on the cowboy," she added. The Cowboy, I will get more info on him tonight, is her suitor of the month.
I’m having a frozen margarita. "But I’m worried about you," she said, "because one of their margaritas will do you in. You won’t be able to drive." Should I take a cab? This is all new to me, having to worry how I’ll get home. I have never in all my life had to worry about this. I didn’t drink at all when I was growing up, aside from the incident at fourteen in my own house, and once I was in college, in a city, driving wasn’t an issue. If I get pregnant it won’t be an issue, but for now, there’s sushi to be had and margaritas to be sampled. I imagine my car will remain in a parking lot tonight as I cab it home. She lives in South Austin; I’m in the northern part, so a carpool with a designated driver won’t work. I hate having to be responsible. Especially when happy hour turns into happy hours.