With any luck, you have come to my blog on this occasion to read the third part of a multi-blog spanning epic. Unless you are brutally incompetent, you would have likely started in Alcoholicville followed by a brief but satisfying stroll through the Beardy City. And now, you’ve come to rest in the hollowed stone halls of The Box; this hall, where I can sit in my red leather chair by the fireplace, smoking on my oaken pipe filled with tobacco, and idly flipping through a large leather bound book with gilded edges, promsing to tell you “the rest of the story.”

It will flashback earlier than Blake’s and break away from Liam’s slightly only to wrap everything up nicely, like when Tim Roth and Amanda Plummer rob the restaurant in Pulp Fiction at the start and end of the film, only to get stopped by one “bad motha fucka”. But I digress. Quite frequently. Here we go.

We were trudging along beneath the Engineering building about forty minutes to an hour after Liam and Blake had shown up at my door, forcing me to abandon Calculus and a fulfilling conversation with my girlfriend to walk the Earth in search of alcohol.

We were walking past the UW Plaza, discussing women with beards and plummeting estrogen levels when Liam noticed the Molly Bloom’s. After seeing it again, I’d remember passing the grungy-looking evil version of my former Tuesday hideaway while en route to Danger’s pad. The place looked different at night. It was full of smoke, drunken idiots, and probably a transvestite.

Liam and Blake went inside ahead of me. After entering, I was shocked to see a large man clad in black perched atop a stool. Instantly, I felt foolish. My first encounter with a bouncer would prove to be unsuccessful, as I’d neglected to bring my driver’s license. Since moving to Waterloo, I rarely bring it with me. It is a useless slab of plastic. I carry my WATCard for food, debit card for places that do not take the WATCard, and my health card in case I am assaulted, run over, or made comatose from sexual exhaustion.

Embarassed for ruining the evening, I strolled along down the “strip” with Blake and Liam, when we stopped outside a haven of a bar. A little hole in the wall that could easily be overlooked, yet it possessed its own charm and quiet dignity. I resolved to head home to get my ID, while Liam and Blake went inside to wait. So, I rushed home through back parking lots and through as many shortcuts as I could think of, until I reached N3. I grabbed my driver’s license, got on my bike and hurried back to the bar with the utmost haste.

When I arrived, Blake had just exited the building for a smoke. He informed me with great delight that the noble proprietor was a charming fellow, formerly in some branch of the military, with ties to the highest level bookstore owners in Stratford. His name was Bill. And he was a good man. He did not even check my ID. After all that work.

So, for a time, we lazed about in the bar. Blake had some rum and cokes, while Liam and I had screwdrivers; Liam gently sipping while I ravenously consumed. But, I had not had a drink in a while, and I needed something to take the edge off my week which was packed with assignments. On the large projection TV, we sat and laughed at the Daily Show, and the first half of the Colbert Report. Liam checked out a girl’s blue panties while I braved the atrocity that was the restroom. The mirror was either caked with mud or vomit. I’m assuming the latter, but in order to use the sink for a time, I convinced myself of the former.

When we’d finally had enough, we paid the bill (with a good tip) and embarked on a long journey home. We struggled to get my bike through the Davis Centre. After we got back to my place, we all sat about and talked. Interesting topics. We talked about Carl. Sex, lies, and videotape. All that sort of thing. I retold my ”house mom” story. Everyone had a good laugh. Blake almost broke my chair.

And after everyone went home, I tirelessly worked to finish Calculus, eventually walking over to the Math Building to hand it in at 3 AM.

So there you have it. The story is over.

Have a good life.