Another friday night in the bag

The basic sequence of events last night goes roughly like this:

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I caught up with Whisky at about 5.30 in a bar on the city square. We had a few beers and then moved on to get some dinner. We went to Chinatown where we ate at a Malaysian restaurant, Hainanese chicken for me. From there we went onto Section 8 (pictured), the seasonal bar constructed out of an old shipping container on one of the backblocks of a city laneway. We drank Coppers Pale Ale longnecks as it gradually became dark.

Earlier I had received a call from Cheeseboy. Just like this day last year he’d had too much to drink at his office Christmas party and wanted to catch up. Our efforts to coordinate our movements had been pretty hopeless, largely because he and his cronies had been shifting erratically around the city. Through out all this Cheesie and I are calling each other and yelling to make ourselves heard, and sending text messages that are never replied to. So when it was time to move on from Section 8 it was to another bar rather than Cheeseboy.

We went to Sister Bella, a grungy bar in another of the ubiquitous Melbourne laneways, though more correctly termed a nook in this case. Though the booze selection is pretty basic it’s a very laid back and comfortable venue. We stayed for about four drinks I guess talking intently and watching the shifting crowd around us.

We left with a case of the late night munchies. We popped into a nearby Hungry Jacks, where Cheeseboy rang to tell us he had landed at the usual karaoke venue, the Korea Palace. Cheesie loves his karaoke, particularly when he’s drunk. We wolfed down our burgers and joined him.

He was there with three others in various states of intoxication and raucous voice. We joined in, a mic in our hand we belted an assortment of karaoke favourites for another hour whilst we sank a few more Heinekens. It was just on 1 when we left, parting for home in different directions.

I went to catch the 48 tram in Collins Street, where I stood experiencing a bit of a Vladimir and Estragon moment, wondering if the tram would ever show. It did and I rode home without event.

Rigby greeted me affectionately, as ever he does, and I settled down on the couch eating leftover cookies and flicking between Lantana and a replay of a 2001 finals match between Richmond and Carlton. Then finally bed.

 

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