El Doctor Is In

I just found out that one of my best friends ever has a blog... and has had since a year before I started. I should really pay more attention. I met Doc when I was living in Raleigh, NC over ten years ago. I was a loudmouthed, leather jacket wearin', motorcycle ridin', hard drinkin', 3rd shift workin', womanizing pain in the ass with violent tendancies. He was an intelligent, well spoken, jovial, friendly, polite educator and basketball coach (he still is) who lived two buildings over in the same apartment complex.
We became friends... Good friends... He stood up for me at my wedding, and I did a reading at his. One time he got me good... Hot day, humid in NC. I was out back of the apartment working on my bike... hot, sweaty and greasy, and not in a good way. Phone rings- It's Doc "Time to hit the pool... Be there in 5." Sweet. I saw him inside through the window in the kitchen. Cold mugs in the freezer. So, he pops out the back door with a tall cold mug of amber liquid. I thanked him and took a huge swig of... Schlitz. Yikes. Back in those days I was not a beer snob like I am now, but SCHLITZ? Anyway, we drank those... and several more as I recall.

So, now I'm going to tell a tale on him... and me.

There was a mexican resturant down from where we lived. Busy place, full of yuppies. We managed to end up there a few times a week.
This one was a cold night, freezing. Doc, me and Beth (one of my upstairs neighbors). Man, that bar was packed. Square bar in the middle of the room, open ice tank at one end... right in front of us. The bartenders could not keep up with demand. Doc and I can empty beer bottles as fast as the brewers can fill 'em. We spent too much time with empties.
Two bartenders and a barback, so timing was everything. I looked at Doc and snagged a beer, big 'ol smirk on my face. He gave me the "you're not a cool as you think" look... And snagged a beer.
Wait a damn minute. Who's the criminal type here? ME. You're gotdammed right, so I snagged another one. So did he. Damn. Me. Him. Me, Him. Me-him before mine completely cleared the ice. We had beers lined up on the floor by the bar-rail all in front of us. On top of all the ones we drank. OK smart-ass. I put one back. So did he. Here we go again. Me. Him. Me... What the Hell are we doing? I was wearing my biker jacket. The one I still wear. Lots of zippers... and pockets. I took it off and draped it over my barstool. Bent down to tie my shoe and filled every pocket with beer. 8 or 9 as I recall. We put the rest back (minus the two more we drank) and I told them I'd meet them at my place. I picked up my coat (hung down by my knees) and headed for the door. Clink, clink, clink.
There was always a bouncer at the door, usually an off duty cop. Clink, clink. I made it to my bike, climbed aboard (clink) and put on my jacket. BOOM! It sounded like a shotgun going off. I looked down and saw an exploded beer bottle at my feet. One had fallen out of my pocket and hit the asphalt. Busted. Damn. I looked over expecting to see the cop running me down. I hadn't even started the bike yet. Screwed. Instead I saw the door close. He had gone in to get warm. I must've pulled rubber in three gears getting the Hell out of there.
They were some of the best beers I ever had. Me, Doc and Beth lounging around my living room, drinking and laughing. What? Were you expecting the "Wedding Mafia" story? Maybe next time.

Go check him out. He's good.