Wednesday, September 9, 2009

The Weekend

Today is a Wednesday. True story. For Alvin this means it's time to start thinking about what to do this weekend. In fact he got a jump on this thinking by asking me last night. I wasn't helpful. 

Alvin doesn't like to plan ahead often but if there is one thing that is important to him it is getting rowdy, so planning ahead is necessary.

But this weekend poses some problems. We have a formal 21st in the city on Friday night. Problem? Well Alvin likes to party until at least 3 am. His favourite venue, Carlton Club, caters for this but the bouncers at Carlton Club are not big fans of punters in formal, particularly if they are arriving after 1 am. So, another venue must be sought to house his rowdiness. A venue that doesn't mind drunk people in formal arriving after 1 am. A venue that plays good music. A venue with good people. 

Wherever Alvin ends up it won't feel as comfortable to him as the tropical Carlton Club balcony. Last time I was there with him he got so comfortable that he kept falling asleep on one of the tables. I'd wake him up as bouncers walked by. Alvin figured they wouldn't mind, he is a part of the furniture there. Even when feeling ill he didn't do the polite thing as others would and run to the toilet, this place was his. Alvin didn't even move his forehead from the edge of the table before unleashing the contents of his stomach below him.

It seems even the beloved furniture can be removed from the club if they make a mess. I explained to the bouncers on the door that I was gonna make sure he got into a cab and then I'd return. They understood but yelled at me to run after him. I looked down Bourke Street and saw Alvin making a bee line to six police. 

When I got to him the cop was telling him to come with him. Alvin was mumbling that, no he wasn't going to go with the cop, he was going to go over there, pointing further down Bourke. It's unclear where Alvin thought he was going, there were cabs right out the front of the club entrance, and it's unclear why Alvin thought it necessary to run straight to the police so he could tell them. Alvin explained to me the next day that he probably thought that he was going to be the best smart-arse to the cops and it was going to be awesome. Sometimes ideas can't be carried out as they've been conceived though, especially by extremely drunk bodies.

I grabbed Alvin by the shoulder and told the cop that he was with me and I was going to put him in a cab. The cop said I better do that straight away or they'd put him in remand for six hours. I toyed with the idea of leaving him with the cops but only for a second. I don't think Alvin would hold it against me, it'd be an interesting experience for him. I chucked him in the next available cab and gave the driver his EFTPOS card. The driver put $50 on it immediately.

The next day Alvin met some friends at the station where the story was explained to him. He was proud that he managed to get no vomit on his clothes but when he turned around he revealed quite a lot on the back of his pants. The pants that he'd slept in.

When I told him how I put him in the cab he said, "But I didn't have $50 in my account!"

Alvin returned to Carlton Club that night.

Wherever will he go this time?

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