I arrived in Asheville, North Carolina at 5:00AM on Monday after driving a utility van from Boston to here, making no rest stops in between. My friend Darrick was planning to stay with his older sister, Stacy for a week or so before heading to Florida to help his father build a house. He, Alyssa, and I made it here without any incidents (and I didn't have to drive at all).
Stacy lives in a 3 bedroom house with 2-3 other roommates. Greg (Lance Armstrong's former personal chef, a NY Times best selling author, and a stand up comedian from Atlanta), a southern girl who's name I cannot recall, and her boyfriend. The house is a very cozy and organized place, but my belongings, along with Darrick's, are sprawled throughout the living room.
On the first night, we all went to a Goodwill clearance center to find costumes for a Mardi Gras party the following night. Darrick's sisters are both artists, and took it very very seriously as I was gonna sifting through the different bins casually. From there, we drank at this Irish pub called Tolliver's as the sisters went to go see Marley and Me. I checked out a quaint tattoo parlor next door, but wasn't feeling it, otherwise I would have went through with my idea.
2 blocks from the Irish pub, was a trendy bar with a pool table and tons of people our age. Darrick played a few songs for their open mic night and did a great job. The bar was called Westville Pub. At this point in the night I had been drinking heavily because of issues I have back home, which directly effects me the rest of the night. I felt like trying to meet new people, in order to force me to forget about problems I have.
At this specific bar, the majority of the patrons were drinking in large groups. Because I am incapable of pronouncing my "R's" properly, I feel like I was viewed as an alien. Further into the night, I noticed a girl writing in her journal, drinking whisky and coke(?). This was likely my best bet to exchange life stories, but we left soon after for reasons unknown.
When we got back to Stacy's house, her roommate Greg was leaving for a bar a few blocks away called The Admiral. Because of my mild intoxication, I asked him if he was cool with me joining. I would normally not in a sober state. I don't know. Maybe. Darrick and I joined him for a whole bunch of beers. We talked about poker (ha), his stand up comedy career, and other personal stories and problems we have. People love to talk about themselves.
The girl who was writing in her journal at the previous bar, was sitting alone at a booth, still writing. I made it a goal of mine to find a cigarette for Darrick (you can smoke in Asheville bars!). I first went to a table full of lesbians (starting from the ground up) and acquired one cigarette. This was an eventual segway to a dead end conversation. My intox-o-meter was probably close to an 8/10 at this point. I sit at the booth of the girl that I noticed before and make a fool of myself. Not a direct quote but, "HEY I NOTICED YOU WRITING IN YOUR JOURNAL FROM AFAR. CREEPY AMIRITE?" Before long, Greg, Darrick and I are sitting at her booth, telling jokes, etc. I recall talking about Maine, college, spirituality, sex, Asheville, music, among other things, I'm sure. We ended up exchanging contact information, and met up a couple days later.
Woke up with a sick, sick, hangover. Went to breakfast at a mom and pop southern diner called The Stock Yard. A lot of things happened on this day. Mardi Gras, etc. I'm going to leave this day out for now.
Yesterday.
Sent things out at the Post Office.
Drove around aimlessly with Darrick and Alyssa.
Tattoo parlor, and Mexican restaurant with magician waiter.
Nap.
Not-so-authentic BBQ restaurant.
The Admiral for 18 jukebox songs and 2 drinks.
Westville Pub to meet with Danni the Journal Girl.
Hung out in van and talked about everyone's relationship problems.
Godspeed.
