A short story about Bear's Lair
Heaving. I heard heaving. And then puking. It was normal and it was nighttime…about 1am. The moon cast a shadow on the Campanile in the distance. A frat boy yelled “dude, that’s nasty, there’s chunks of Blondie’s in your puke hahaha”. I tried to avoid the splatter on the sidewalk as did the hobo while clutching the leash of his pitbull.
Sweat and piss odor filled the sky, almost as if the air was a crimson tide that filled Telegraph. I was going to Bears’ Lair to grab a couple of drinks, the only thing to do on a Saturday night in this town.
“ID?”
“Sure, here you go”
He flicked his fingers motioning for me to pass. Bouncers – they think they’re running Checkpoint Charlie.
“Pilsner please, pitcher.”
Urine must taste like this. Maybe they reduce the price by peeing in the beer.
The crowd at the bar pushed and forced me into directions I didn’t want to go. Frat boys flexed their biceps when you passed to keep you from easily getting around them. Dave showed up — Bloodshot eyes, smell of herb.
“Yo”
“Yo bro”
“Get a pitcher?”
“Yeah, sip on some of this”
I passed him a cup filled with Pilsner. We sat outside with some girls from Sigma Kappa on a picnic table. The layers of paint on the table were thicker than the wood construction; they must have been painted over three hundred times since the 50s.
Journey’s “Anyway you want it, that’s the way you need it” played for the second time since I had arrived. One of the girls at the table was knee deep in conversation with the group.
“Yeah so I went to Italy last spring, it was absolutely awesome. I can’t believe that their culture is so different and diverse. They take naps in the afternoon and its unbelievable that they’re able to get anything done.”
One of the other girls asked, “Did you drink a lot?”
“Omigod, I drank more than I ever have in my life. I was literally so drunk this one time when I was on the river. This guy Joey was with me, he was hot. Its great to see the world and how developing countries live.”
She adjusted her bra. Her dress was too short for her, you could see her ass sticking out. As a guy, I was relatively intrigued at first, but turned off later.
I left to go take a leak over on the steps at Zellerbach. I was kind of drunk – the kind of drunk where the lights are brighter and you have the sensation that the air is thinner. The side of the building was the local drunken-person toilet. I went back, Dave had moved on to some girl Rachael he was hooking up with at the time. They were making out on the bench over by the gate separating the crowd from the street.
I saw Tiffany. I knew her through one of my friends from high school. She said “hi” and gave me a hug. I was closest with Tiff out of most girls at Berkeley. We had a relatively deep conversation:
“Hey, how are you?”
“Great, see you around!”
Dave came over and asked if I wanted to head back and smoke a bowl.
“I’m down, would be a good way to deal with the night.”
“Seriously, let’s roll out.”
Dave had a Malibu accent. He sounded like he was going surfing every time he spoke.
We walked back.