Phone Books

Gosh, that last story sure was a downer. I'll make it up to you.

On September 23, 2008, my co-worker and good buddy MF turned 40. Being the tight-knit crew of fun loving chemists and associated professionals that we are, we of course hit the town with him for a night of carousing and general debauchery.

We started out at the Memorial Union, largely due to its proximity to our laboratory on the University of Wisconsin campus. This was not the first time that we had gone out drinking at the Union together, either. The first time, my boss Tom, already a little tipsy, stole a bottle of Smirnoff for me because the workers were all standing around by the popcorn machine bullshitting rather than serving the patrons who were waiting so patiently at their bar. He just reached behind the counter, grabbed one, and walked away, as the employees watched disinterestedly. That was a good time.

The thing about the Union, though, is that the only kinds of alcohol they serve are various beers and Smirnoff Ice. Since i don't like beer, whenever we go out there, it leaves me stuck drinking Smirnoff and being accused of having a vagina.

However, this made me an ideal candidate to drive somebody to our next stop, Jolly Bob's, across town on Willy Street. I got saddled with the Jolly Green Giant riding shotgun in my Jeep, who was at that time sort of panicked because he'd failed to mention to his girlfriend that he was going to be out with the guys all night and wouldn't be coming home from work. Not that he needed permission, he kept reiterating, but just because she should probably know. But the weird thing in all of this: he couldn't remember his own home phone number. We were all like, what, obviously, but he kept insisting that it was perfectly normal since he just had it programmed into his cell phone and never needed to know the actual number. Keep in mind that she moved in with him, not vice versa, so this was definitely his own personal home phone number. I'm not sure why he didn't have his cell on him. He'd borrowed someone else's phone and tried a couple numbers whilest we drank at the Union, but to no avail.

So anyway, on the way to Jolly Bob's, he gets this great idea that we should swing by a friend of his girlfriend's house, since it's practically on the way, and see if she knows the number. We got a little lost in the Willy Street area, because he couldn't quite remember which house it was (i'm not sure how much beer he'd consumed at this point, but it was certainly...an amount...an amount of Optimator, a strong, dark, German beer). Well, i assume that we found the right house, because he went in and was there for a few minutes, but it turned out the friend of his girlfriend was not present, so we proceeded on to Jolly Bob's. We were strongly criticized for arriving last, since we had left the Union first. The rest of our group had already consumed a whole drink.

Jolly Green inquired of the bartender if they had a phone book he could use quick, so he could look up his number and phone his woman.

"Sure!" the bartender replied. "We just got two of them today, in fact!" He produced a pair of phone books from beneath the bar, which were still plastic wrapped together. He separated them and handed one off to Jolly Green. "You can keep that if you want. I only need one."

"Thanks but i don't really need it," he said.

"Wait," i put in. "I don't have a phone book. Do you mind if i take it?"

Neither of them did, of course, so i took it. At this point, the whole thing was perfectly reasonable, if a little odd, sitting at a bar with a phone book. But that's all it was, at that time: a guy with a phone book.

Jolly Bob's has got some amazing drinks. They don't serve anything that you might consider standard in the United States. I ordered a Captain and Coke only to be told that they stocked neither Captain Morgan nor Coca-Cola. Jolly Bob's is strictly Caribbean. I instead got something made with multiple fruit juices and Jamaican rum. I'd have a good many of these as the night wore on.

We spent the majority of the night at Jolly Bob's, including dinner, more mixed drinks, and a few rounds of shots.

Eventually we moved along with our barhopping, i can't actually remember what our next stop was, or for sure that there was another bar between Jolly Bob's and Mickey's, but i think there was. In any case, as the night was drawing to a close, we had walked several blocks down the street to Mickey's. But as we were congregating outside the entrance to the bar, the general consensus became that it was time to call it a night. I phoned Amanda to come pick me up, and the cloud of chemists started to disperse. Suddenly, somebody realized that Tom was not among the crowd. Tom had gone inside to get another drink. Tom was already hammered beyond the capacity for rational thought. He did not require another drink.

Jolly Green went in after him. Around this point, i, in my stumbling drunken stupor, decided that i really, really needed to pee. My phone book, which i had dutifully clung to throughout the last several alcohol-filled hours, could not come inside with me, although i'm not exactly sure why. So i set it on the concrete stairs in front of Mickey's, propped against the building.

"Don't let anyone steal my phone book!" i commanded, truly believing that somebody would. The remaining chemists agreed to keep an eye on my precious phone book, and i went in. I stumbled through the crowd (Mickey's is always crowded, even on weeknights. I have never seen that place with reasonable walking room earlier than 1:30am any day of the week), at one point brushing past Tom and Jolly Green, the former recognizing me and excitedly proclaiming something about the night not being over, now that i'd arrived. I made my way to the restroom and conducted my business. By the time i came out, Tom had a fresh Captain and Coke in his hand, which he thrust upon me. Jolly Green was gone.

"I bought you another drink!" he proudly exclaimed, partaking heartily of his own brew.

"Hey alright!" i chimed, because at that moment, if there was one thing that i did not need, if there was one thing that i truly wanted, it was another Captain and Coke.

Jolly Green returned moments later, disapproving through his own haze that we were still drinking. He was trying to haul us out of the bar; i protested that Tom had just gotten me this drink and dammit, i was not going to let it go to waste. He responded by taking possession of the glass and downing it himself. Dejected, i headed for the door.

Upon arrival outside, i discovered that my phone book was missing.

"Where's my phonebook!?" i loudly inquired of the dwindling group. They responded that they did not know.

Somebody had stolen my phone book. I couldn't believe it. My incompetent co-workers had just stood by and let some drunken hobo walk off with my precious. He was probably using it as a pillow and sleeping in a nearby alley as we spoke. But seeking him out wouldn't do me any good, i'd probably get shanked.

Suddenly it occurred to me that i had probably taken the phone book inside. I must have left it in the bathroom! I couldn't just leave it there! I had to rescue it!

So i once again entered Mickey's, only to come face to face with Jolly Green and Tom, finally on their way out. "Why are you coming back inside?" Jolly Green demanded.

"My phone book! I lost my phone book."

Looking around, Jolly Green spotted two phone books, wrapped in plastic, sitting on a bar stool next to the door. He grabbed them, tore the plastic off, and handed me one of them.

It just wasn't the same. It was not my phone book, just some other skeezy phone book that happened to be in a convenient locale. But, i didn't want to anger Jolly Green further, so i exited the building.

Amanda was waiting outside for us. Jolly Green appealed to her for a ride home, and the two of us climbed into the back seat, where Alyssa's dogs were already residing. Toby, her gigantic German shepherd, snapped at Jolly Green, which amused me at the time, but i guess really wasn't that funny.

The next day at work, the majority of the staff was dealing with hangovers and serious sleep deprivation, but everybody who was out partying made it in. Only Pukeflower called in sick that day, and she wasn't even part of the festivities, or even invited, because nobody likes her. I've got an unfinished blog about Pukeflower; there's so much to be said about her which i'm sure an outside observer will find hilarious. It'll show up sooner or later.

As i was sitting in my seat, quietly doing my work, Kelly came up behind me and plopped a phone book down on my desk.

"I heard you lost your phone book, so i brought you mine. I don't need it," she said.

"Thanks," i said. "But the Jolly Green Giant already stole another one for me."

She left it with me anyway. I now had two phone books.

The following day, David came in holding a phone book. "I protected your phone book for you!" he proclaimed proudly.

"What?!" i said, confused.

"You left it sitting on the step at the bar, and i was leaving, so i thought i'd keep it safe for you and i took it home."

Well, that explained that. I now had three phone books.

I got off the bus that day, clutching my original phone book, and walked up the cul-de-sac that i lived on at the time. As i came up to our door, i found a brand new phone book in a plastic bag on our doorstep. They were on many of the other doorsteps in the neighborhood. I suppose, if i'd given any thought to the whole phone book situation in the very beginning, at Jolly Bob's, i'd have seen this coming. I now had four phone books.

The story may as well end there, but a few months later, we moved across town to a new apartment complex, and they had bricks of eight phone books wrapped in plastic that were sitting outside the main entrances to each building. They'd been there since we'd done the walkthrough; it was clear nobody was taking them. We used them to prop the doors open as we moved in.

Somehow, one of these bricks of phone books remained in our apartment during our entire tenure there, and for some reason moved to our next residence with us. I now had twelve phone books.

All of those phone books are gone now, but at the time i got some strange pleasure out of telling people that i had twelve phone books, and then telling them why.