A Full Circle Sunday

For those who weren’t there or didn’t get drunk-dialed (enjoy that message I left, James?), last Sunday was a full day at the Full Circle. It started around noon when Carlos got up and tried to raise me from the dead, then took a shower and got dressed. I stumbled into the bathroom, stood under the water for a while, then dried off and threw on some clothes. Seth had called while Carlos was in the shower, and wanted to have brunch. Brunch (well, mimosas anyway) sounded great. But Carlos wanted to go to IHOP, meaning no drinky. Which was fine, I didn’t really need a cocktail first thing in the afternoon. I called Seth, and his response to IHOP was: “They have crappy food and no alcohol” and he said he’d meet us out later. Carlos and I Benzed up to IHOP, grabbed some brunch, and I fired off texts to round up the crew. The consensus was the it was a Full Circle day.

As usual, I had a plan. I always have a plan. The plan today was to have some hair-of-the-dog with Seth and the boys, then pour on the water and hit the office for some serious billing. It didn’t work out. It almost never works out.

We parked outside Full Circle, and Carlos ran over to the bank to check his balance. Since I had a couple of minutes, I ducked into the little junk shop across from the bar, a place with no discernable name but some cool stuff. I’m slowly becoming addicted to the place; there’s nothing like sifting through a junk shop and coming across a treasure. I’ve seen a few near-treasures there that give me hope something really good will appear one day. But I lingered for a couple minutes longer than I should have, and when I ran across the street to Full Circle, little Carlos was wandering about, wondering where I’d gone.

I settled into a large and deeply satisfying mimosa, and within minutes Seth appeared. Seth had had a bit of a rough morning: apparently, he had a fight with his boyfriend, dumped him, packed a bag, and announced he was moving out. Which explains why he didn’t want to battle the Central District church crowd at IHOP to enjoy some bad pancakes and no booze. I got him a double Black Velvet and Coke, knowing he needed it and that he would get a lot more interesting once he’d gotten a fifth of BV under his belt. About halfway through the first drink, Paul and Curtis arrived from Thumper’s (that’s where people Paul’s age hang out) and shortly thereafter Woodsy and Michael Hudson appeared. Finally, little Adam rolled in wearing his little ball cap and looking like little league had just let out. I cranked up the jukebox, and we settled into a Full Circle afternoon.

Woodsy had been on a bit of a bender that week, and it was starting to show. His eyes were just narrow slits, and he pretty much sat on his barstool just grinning and giggling. Not that we judge people for that. I’ve been there before, just not for weeks at a time. Carlos played some video games and then switch to doubles pool with Curtis and two guys from the bar. Adam tried to talk me into going to Nova Scotia, but I convinced him that Montreal would be more fun. Seth vigorously pursued the bottom of his glass, and Paul hit that point where he stops speaking and starts taking down strangers’ pants.

Seth, as you will recall, had had a bit of a rough morning with the boyfriend. After finishing most the bar’s Black Velvet, he started a pissing match with Michael. Seth is smart, but so is Michael, and Michael holds his alcohol better. It took about 3 catty comments and it was clear that this little dispute was going to end with the two of them in bed doing it six ways from Sunday. I wandered over to the bar to grab another beer, and by the time I got back they were firmly lip-locked and sashaying towards the door. Paul, meanwhile was giving me his trademark “Come over here” slurring, drunken whisper. I looked over and he had some guy’s fly down. Before I can react he whipped it out. “Look at this,” he said while the guy (I have no idea who he was) just stood there too drunk to avoid being exposed.

That was pretty much my cue to exit. I gathered up the Carlitos (who was more than ready to go) and we said our good-byes. So much for work, we picked up Chinese on the way home, and I fell asleep on the couch halfway through my chow fun. That’s the way to spend a Sunday.