Tonight Leah convinced me that I had to go to happy hour.
I’ve been bemoaning the lack of “hang out” friends in my life right now – you know, the sort of friends that you can email at 3pm to make plans for dinner that night, or who would be down with sitting on the couch and watching a terrible movie. I feel like that’s a kind of friendship I haven’t cultivated here yet, and it’s something I really feel the need for in my life.
So when work people called a happy hour, Leah wouldn’t hear of me staying home, despite my reticence and my desire to sit on the couch and eat pizza. I convinced Shane that going out would be a good idea, and off we went to Packard Pub, which turned out to be a TOTAL sports bar.
You know the type – a bajillion TVs all tuned to the same game, waitresses (no waiters) in referee outfits, $6 pitchers of shitty beer, and food served in paper-lined baskets. The sort of place you might want to go if you are a Big 10 undergrad who has just turned 21. Or if you’re a middle-aged man who likes to relive your days of collegiate sports (or drinking) glory. Or if you enjoy sub-par service and adequate food.
OK, OK. Focus on the food. I had a turkey Reuben, and Shane took advantage of the half-priced appetizers and had a chicken quesadilla, both of which were totally adequate. My coworkers ordered the fried pickles, which were strange and soggy. Several pitchers of Bud Light were split amongst those in attendance. I don’t know if I cultivated any hang-out friendships, but I did make an effort to be social, and that’s half the battle, right? Right?