I could be the one to take you home
Late nights staring at your phone
I could make you feel like
You’re in love
I could be the one to make you quit
Late nights when you feel like shit
I could make you feel so
Damn alone
One year ago these two invited me to go out on a luncheon tour of indulgence, gluttony, and camaraderie. Now, after 365 more days give or take, we are back again to run the gauntlet from Lucky 13 to Beer Bar. It starts with shots of well, obscure beers whose titles are difficult to pronounce, and a raucous commotion and dirty looks from fellow patrons as we make dirty jokes about Moose Knuckles and the old teachers we had whose slacks and frontward appearance gave the moniker a despicable mental image; The horrors we endure as children are testament to why this world is now so fucked.
The food finally arrives, and all is well. For me, it was the classic bacon cheese burger with garlic fries, my friends preferring the potatoes of cajun variety. Eventually we stumble out of the bar, a nice buzz going for 1:30pm on a Saturday afternoon, and head out towards our next destination, Beer Bar on second.
Driving through the city is a messy reminder of the vast displacement that was caused some years back by Salt Lake City’s controversial “Operation: Rio Grande”—named after the eponymous railway station where the city’s homeless and deeply drug addicted called home—drove out the folks from a concentrated area and now has poured into the city and everywhere around. Combine this with the ever growing homeless population and the soon to come uptick from an inevitable housing crisis on par with 2008, and it’s almost forgivable to see why this town has replaced the young college kids and hungover party goers on a weekend afternoon with trashed streets, tents, and folks muttering to themselves while they contort and twist in as if they were pacing back and forward before a casting interview for Cirque du Soleil.
We secure a good parking spot, head to the Maverick to pick up a pack of smokes to split - a bad habit that I quit some time ago but still enjoy to partake when drinks, friends, and magic cards are involved. My friend and I are still too stuffed from the burgers and lagers of the last bar, and opt to only drink here instead of the supposedly traditional order of brats and fries. Finally, my favorite part of the day can begin: we each roll out or playmats and start the games with a Commander set featuring Phenax, Moldrotha, and my Heliod. It’s a fun one all around and we each get to do some silly shit, eventually, the game falls apart in an instant when I use Aetherflux Reservoir to take our Phenax, and Moldrotha Mind-Slaver’s me to repeat the process declaring myself as the target. A terrible way to end to be sure.
The second game is a traditional set of 60 card decks, which are quite a bit less interactive and exciting, but all still a beautiful and beloved game type with cards we all have loved for a very long time. A full-on tribal war breaks out between Vampires, Goblins, and Eldrazi, with Goblins taking the win with a massive army of 36 or so hasted 2/2s.
We all opt to follow our friend back to his home and continue games into the night. The rest of the night is more games with Nine Inch Nail’s live performances dvd’s playing in the background, and pink/red lighting only for atmosphere. By this point, I am already making regretful decisions on my phone, a classic move for any drunken bachelor of late age, and I think deeply on the bonds I’ve made over the past 20 years.
I turn 30 soon, and these are the last moments of what is likely the best decade of our lives. And now I take the deep breath before the plunge.
