Typical Wednesday Night

“Do you want to do another shot?”

It was 11pm on a Wednesday night. I stood at the bar and stared at my friend, Mike, in disbelief that he would ask me such a ridiculous question.

“Of course I do,” I said.

Earlier that evening, I had showed up to The Factory at 5pm for “one drink”…

…and it turned into six hours of Bud Lights and Jameson shots.

“You got it, Michelle,” Mike said, raising his hand as the bartender walked to our end of the bar. He poured two shots of Jameson and I drank my shot like water considering I could no longer taste alcohol by this point.

The Factory was relatively packed for a Wednesday night and the music was blasting. Mike had been a good friend of mine since I started going to The Factory regularly. He was tall with brown, curly hair and hazel eyes. Our friend, Will, was standing next to us. He was attractive to me, and even more so since I just took my eighth shot of the night.

I looked at my two friends and spoke with unexpected confidence. “Alright guys, I think I should probably go home now.” I had an early meeting at work the next day and wanted to get at least a good six or seven hours of sleep.

“Um, sure. I can drive you back,” Will said, and then winked at Mike.

I noticed the exchange and grew curious. “Did you just wink at Mike?” I asked.

“No,” Will said, almost as if he were asking a question.

I stupidly brushed it off. “Oh, okay. Yeah sure, I’ll take a ride.”

“I’ll come too,” Mike added with a smile.

The three of us opened the front door of The Factory and stepped outside into the warm summer air. We walked a couple of blocks to Will’s car, the three of us laughing about probably nothing, and hopped in.

That’s when Will started driving in the opposite direction of where I lived.

“Hey guys, this isn’t the way to my apartment,” I said, confused.

“Well, that’s because we are going to Atlantic City, Michelle,” Mike said.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You were telling us earlier in the night how you wanted to go to Atlantic City, so we thought we would surprise you!” Will added in a way that sounded way more genuine than it should have.

“NO!! DRIVE ME HOME NOW!!” is what I should have said.

“Okay cool!” is what I actually said.

And off we drove for two hours from Hoboken to Atlantic City. We were about halfway there when I remembered work the next day.

“Oh wait, I have an early meeting at work tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you home in time,” Will said.

And they did. We arrived in Atlantic City, spent a few hours gambling at the casino, and then hopped right back into the car again. Through some unforeseen magic, I was dropped off at the PATH station at 8am. “I’ll see you guys at The Factory later!” I shouted as I ran to catch the train.

I arrived at my desk just in time for my meeting looking…well, like I had just gotten back from a night of drinking.